


The Great Escape

by Luck_Kazajian



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dad!Zenigata, Except that Lupin isn't the one causing them because he is out of commission, Gen, Goemon watches some TV, I don't know what I'm doing with the tags on this one guys...enjoy, Lupin gets caught, Sickfic, Typical Lupin Shenanigans, Who knew Jigen was good at forgery?, Zenigata would actually make a darn good theif
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luck_Kazajian/pseuds/Luck_Kazajian
Summary: After a spectacularly failed heist in France, Lupin, Goemon, and Jigen disappear with plans to go underground for about a month, let things settle, and then get right back at it again. Except that this time, Lupin can't make himself disappear as thoroughly as usual and finds himself in prison, arrested by an upstart young French officer with a thirst for fame. When Zenigata finds out, he instantly knows something is wrong. Lupin needs his help in what is quickly becoming a life-or-death situation. Can Zenigata pull enough strings to get the famous thief out of hot water?
Comments: 36
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonstruck1318](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruck1318/gifts).



> Well, I'm back at it again, you guys, this time with a Dad!Zenigata story, since I got some requests for that on my last Lupin story (here's looking at you, Moonstruck1318). I hope this lives up to your expectations ;)  
> Also, I have set this story in France, so I have done some research on France and its locations (I've never been there in person). There is a prison called Marseilles-Baumette near Marseilles, but I've made up pretty much everything else about it.

Lupin stared at the wall and took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair. It was long enough to stand up between his fingers now (not like he had time for haircuts in the middle of planning the biggest heist of the century). Jigen would tell him he looked like a walking rug. Then he’d pull out a pair of scissors and threaten to cut Lupin’s hair. Not that Jigen was a bad barber. Funny thing since his own hair was usually long and scruffy. But that seemed to be the way Jigen liked it. Just like he liked Lupin’s hair short. 

_It’s the natural order of things,_ Jigen would say. 

The natural order. Lupin sighed and lit a cigarette. Nothing was natural these days. Not after that failed heist in Marseille. Lupin still hadn’t figured out how the police knew they were coming. They’d been crawling all over the museum. Lupin, Jigen and Goemon barely made it out in one piece. It was a nasty night -- cold and rainy with a dash of ice. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture Jigen and Goemon’s faces, haggard, ice crusting in their hair, water running down their cheeks like tears. He was sure he hadn’t looked any better. 

They led the police on a merry chase into the countryside, sliding across icy roads and fields and losing all but the most persistent cars. Surprisingly, Zenigata hadn’t been in any of them. Instead, the chase was spear-headed by some young French officer. He’d been about as dogged as Zenigata. 

Lupin only lost him because he lost control of the car and they went hurtling down a steep bank, crashing into trees and bushes until the car finally came to rest upside down at the bottom of the hill. Lupin had no idea how they all made it out alive, but Jigen and Goemon both answered when he asked if they were ok. 

They’d crawled out on the bank after that, sopping wet, bruised and battered. Jigen had blood mingling on his face with the ice and water and Goemon was holding his left arm at a funny angle. There’d been a sharp pain in Lupin’s side when he breathed in, but he could walk and that was what was important. 

They drifted into the woods like ghosts after that, splitting up with plans to meet in one month in Aix-en-Provence. No contact, no lawbreaking. They were to thoroughly disappear, let everything cool down, and start again. Just like they always did.

Lupin exhaled and coughed, struggling for breath as a cloud of smoke drifted up around his face. That had been two weeks ago. Two weeks running. Two weeks coughing and shivering like he’d never get warm again. Two weeks evading that stupid Ellian Charpentier -- young, fresh, and more tenacious than even Zenigata. No, check that. Not more tenacious. More vicious. He’d hunted Lupin with such accuracy it was nearly superhuman. Even Lupin’s usual hideouts had been compromised and for the first week, he barely kept a step ahead of the man. It was only after he stopped using any of his usual routes, dropped his phone, and ran blind that he finally lost the officer. 

And now he was holed up in a hotel, in a town so tiny it barely had a name, in a room with walls so thin they might as well have been made of paper. In the middle of a damn cold winter he wasn’t prepared for. Lupin pulled his coat closer around him and huddled up to the meager fire in his fireplace. 

Maybe he should go see a doctor. He was pretty sure he had a fever. And who wouldn’t after traipsing around the frozen countryside for weeks? It hadn’t helped that he’d been on the run so consistently that he hadn’t had a chance to rest. But he’d dealt with fevers and stuffy noses before. So then why was this time so much harder? Why was this time so much colder? He eyed the new burner phone lying on the coffee table. He’d purchased it two days ago, under a false name, of course. But he hadn’t dared use it. Not yet. But maybe...maybe it was time.

Time to call Jigen. 

Give it up and get his friend's help. 

No, too early for that. They still had about two weeks to keep their heads down. If he called Jigen now, he’d be compromised again. At the very least, he would compromise Jigen. He had no way of knowing if Jigen and Goemon had been trailed as relentlessly as he was, but he had to assume they were. He’d been keeping an eye on the newspapers and he hadn’t seen any arrest headlines, so he was reasonably certain Jigen and Goemon were still free. But that meant they were doing impeccable jobs of keeping their heads down and Lupin didn’t want to risk their cover.

And if they weren’t being tailed? Jigen would laugh. The great Lupin, not even capable of handling himself for a few weeks. And then he would fawn over Lupin and pace around like a mother hen until Lupin quit coughing and breathing through a wall of snot. 

Lupin sneezed. Snot dripped down his face. He groaned and stood up to find a tissue, a towel, anything. In the end, he used his sleeve. This was not how Lupin III was supposed to live. 

He was supposed to be galavanting across France spending money like a king off his latest haul. At least Fujiko wasn’t here to see him like this. 

_Oh, come off it, you’ve had worse. You’ve bungled heists before. You’ll bounce back._

So then why did this time feel so different? 

Lupin sighed and snuffed his cigarette on the wall. Not like anyone would notice with all the other marks and stains on the brown wallpaper. He flopped down on the single bed in the room. The mattress creaked and a spring poked him in the back. He was better than this, dammit. He was Arsene Lupin III. 

But man...he was tired. He was beat. 

He was...asleep. 

“You caught him sleeping?!” Zenigata demanded, slamming his hands down on the young French officer’s desk. 

The blond officer -- Ellian, if Zenigata recalled correctly -- gave him a lazy smile. “That is what I said, monsieur.” 

“Inspector,” Zenigata growled. 

“Pardon, Inspecteur,” Ellian drawled. 

Zenigata scowled. “Asleep?” he prompted. 

“Yes, that’s what I said. In fact, I’m surprised, Inspecteur, he hardly resisted at all. From the stories you tell, I thought he would’ve given us more trouble.” 

“That’s just it. He _should’ve_ given you more trouble. Something’s wrong. I need to see him.” 

“Why?” Ellian’s eyes took on a hard glint. 

“Oh, come off it, I’m not going to steal him. But you might have the wrong man. Or this might be a trick. There’s no way you should have caught him off guard like that.” 

“Maybe I’m just lucky?” Ellian spread his hands. “Just because you failed to catch him doesn’t mean we’re all hopeless.” 

Zenigata took a deep breath and counted to ten before saying anything he’d regret. “I’ve arrested Lupin before. Several times.” 

“And yet, he always gets away.” Ellian leaned back in his chair and inspected his fingernails. 

“You don’t know him like I do,” Zenigata said. “There isn’t a prison in the world that can hold Lupin if he doesn’t want to be there.” 

“Oh? Then he must be very content here, Inspecteur. Because my men tell me he hasn’t moved since we dropped him in his cell this morning.” 

“And that’s what concerns me. I need to see him. Now.” 

Ellian sighed. “Fine. Come with me. I’ll take you to him. Then maybe you’ll get out of my hair.” 

“Oh, I fully intend to,” Zenigata muttered as he followed Ellian out of the room and down to the cells. They passed through a guarded door and into a hallway lined with special security cells. Of the six cells, five were empty, their doors standing open. Only the last cell on the left was occupied. Ellian led Zenigata up to the barred doorway. 

“Is this your man, Zenigata?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. 

Zenigata stood at the bars and looked into the cell. He had to admit the man inside did look like Lupin. The thief was lying on the single cot in the cell, eyes closed, breathing steady, like he was sleeping. Didn’t mean he was, but Zenigata would play along. What worried him was that Lupin didn’t look well. There were dark shadows under the thief’s eyes and his face was hollow and pale. His hair was longer than usual and mussed, sticking up in clumps and points and his jaw was covered in the shadow of a beard.

Which could all, of course, be a ruse, but this time, Zenigata didn’t think Lupin was playacting. He’d seen Lupin nearly starve himself to death before, all in the name of making a glamorous escape later, but this time something was different. This time there was a wheeze in Lupin’s breath that Zenigata didn’t like. There was too much of death in the hollow shadows on his face.

“Have you had a doctor down here?” Zenigata asked. 

“What for?” Ellian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. 

“He looks sick. I think that’s why you caught him.” 

“So he’s got a stuffy nose, so what?” Ellian shrugged. “I haven’t had a doctor officially examine him, but he doesn’t look dead to me, so he’s fine.” 

Zenigata rounded on the cheeky young officer. “He might _be_ dead if you don’t get someone down here to look at him, you twit!” 

Ellian didn’t bat an eye at the insult and smiled slyly. “If I didn’t know any better, Zenigata, I’d say you cared for the man.” 

Zenigata bristled. “I care about _justice_ and justice doesn’t let criminals rot in their cells without facing fair trial.” 

“Isn’t rotting exactly what you want for a criminal like him?” Ellian gestured towards the cell. “You give Lupin a trial, you’ll have half the country clamoring to see it. You get enough publicity and they’ll stop calling him a criminal.” Ellian leaned forward as if he were telling Zenigata a secret. “They’ll call him a martyr instead.” 

Zenigata ground his teeth.

“And that’s the last thing you want, isn’t it?” Ellian prodded. 

“I want him held responsible for his crimes. I want him to pay for what he stole.” 

Ellian snorted. 

“The man’s rich as hell, Ellian!” Zenigata practically shouted. “You think a judge _won’t_ order him to make amends? Do you know how much he’s stolen from your own country?” Zenigata poked Ellian in the chest. “Do you? Would your government be happy if you let Lupin die without at least revealing where his stash is?” 

Ellian looked a little pale. 

“Exactly,” Zenigata continued. “You let him die, then there’s no chance of recovering anything he stole. His gang will split it up and fade into obscurity and you’ll never see them or a single penny again. But, you give the man a trial and you’ll have every policeman, reporter, and do-gooder in the world searching for that stash. His gang will be under pressure, hell, they might even come out of the woodwork to attempt a rescue. And we’ll be ready for ‘em. Then, we find the stolen loot, recover it, arrest Lupin’s gang, and we’re international heroes.” Zenigata slung an arm over Ellian’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. He could see the gleam in Ellian’s eye. The man was hooked. On fame. Zenigata resisted the urge to roll his eyes. All the young ones were, these days. He was a dying breed. 

Ellian nodded slowly. “Alright, old man."

“I am not--” Zenigata began. 

“I’ll call a doctor,” Ellian continued as if Zenigata hadn’t spoken. “But we’re bringing the doctor here. There’s no way I’m letting a criminal this hot out of custody for even a second.”

Zenigata plastered a smile on his face. “Naturally."

Ellian winked. “I take it I can trust you to watch him for a minute while I phone a doctor?” 

“Sure,” Zenigata agreed. 

“Good man.” Ellian gave Zenigata a half-salute and sauntered out of the cell block. 

Zenigata sighed. Ellian was testing him. Leaving him alone with Lupin to see what he’d do. He’d be surprised if the young upstart was even calling a real doctor. He might be a little long in the tooth, but he wasn’t stupid. Zenigata pushed his hat back. He’d have to play this one carefully. 

“Nice try, Pops,” said a scratchy voice from behind him. 

Zenigata whirled around. “Lupin!” 

The wiry thief was sitting up on the edge of his cot now, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. There was a fever-bright shine to his eyes that further convinced Zenigata he wasn’t bluffing.

Zenigata stepped up to the bars. “How long, Lupin?” 

“Huh?” 

“How long have you had...this?” he gestured at Lupin.

Lupin coughed, hiding it in his hand, but there was a wet sound to it that Zenigata didn’t like. “Few weeks.” Lupin shrugged. 

“And Jigen didn’t force you to see a doctor?” 

“Jigen doesn’t know.” 

Zenigata stared at him. “You two have a fight?” 

Lupin chuckled, breaking off in a coughing fit, but he was smiling when he got control of himself again. “No, nothing like that. Geez, Pops. We split up after a…” Lupin gestured with his hand as if looking for the right word. “A little mishap.” 

“You mean that fiasco in Marseilles?” Zenigata asked casually. 

Lupin swallowed hard and looked away for a minute. “Yeah.” 

Zenigata waited on the thief to talk again. Of course he knew about the grand chase in Marseilles. He knew about the rumors that Lupin died at the end of it. He knew about the failed heist. Even though he was glad Lupin didn’t make it out with anything, he could understand why such a big failure would be a blow to anybody’s pride -- especially to Arsené Lupin III. 

Lupin sucked a heavy breath through a snotty nose. “Jigen and Goemon are lying low, like I...was. They won’t think to come for me for another…” he looked up at the ceiling and counted something out on his fingers. “‘Twelve days. I think,” he added tiredly. 

Zenigata raised an eyebrow. For Lupin to not be sure of himself meant something really was wrong. It was the final piece that convinced him Lupin wasn’t pretending. The thief was always on top of things, always three steps ahead, always scheming. For him to be this out of it -- and to accept arrest on top of that? Lupin needed help, that much was clear. The only question was, how to do it?

“And Fujiko?” Zenigata asked. 

“Dunno.” Lupin shrugged. “She wasn’t in on this one.” 

“Is there any way to contact Goemon or Jigen?” 

Lupin looked up in surprise. “Why?” he sounded suspicious. 

“No reason,” Zenigata said gruffly. 

Lupin sighed. “You can’t get in touch with Goemon even if you tried. Jigen’s your best bet.” 

Zenigata stood at the bars in silence. 

Lupin tilted his head so that the camera in the cell couldn’t see his mouth move. “07 51 36 88 90,” he whispered. 

“Got it.” Zenigata committed the numbers to memory. Too dangerous to write them down. Especially if Ellian was watching, which Zenigata was sure he was. 

Zenigata turned and stepped away. 

“Pops?” 

He didn’t turn around, but he stopped. 

“Thanks,” Lupin said. 

“Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“I have a pretty good idea.” 

When Zenigata glanced over his shoulder Lupin was stretched out on his cot again, seemingly asleep. 

Zenigata pulled his hat over his eyes and paced the hall. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention this in the notes for the first chapter, but this story is mostly based off of the blue-jacket iterations of the characters, and I've decided to age them up a bit. The wiki lists Lupin as being in his late 20's/early 30's, with Goemon of similar age, and Jigen and Zenigata nearly ten years older. So, for this one, I'm imagining Lupin in his early 40's, with everybody else aged appropriately. Nobody explicitly mentions this in the story (at least so far) but they make several allusions to it, so I figured I'd make a note out of it ;)

Jigen saw the headlines in a paper on his way to breakfast about a week and a half before they were to meet in Aix-en-Provence. He stopped and slid the fake glasses down his nose to read it better. 

**Arsené Lupin III Arrested!**

Jigen scanned the article. 

_ Police Inspector Ellian Charpentier boasts, “It was easy. It was just a matter of hacking his communications, pinning him down, and a little bit of good old-fashioned guess-work.” _

"More like sheer dumb luck, I bet," Jigen muttered.

_...The infamous thief is being held for trial later this week. _

There was even a picture. A grainy image of a handcuffed Lupin being shoved into the back of a police wagon while a smiling young officer stood nearby supervising. Jigen looked closer at the photo -- There! In the background. A frowning man in a trenchcoat with a fedora slouched over his eyes. Inspector Zenigata. Had to be. Jigen would recognize that scowl anywhere. 

Jigen exhaled and flicked his glasses back up his nose. The newspaper was dated for yesterday, but that meant Lupin had probably been in custody for a few days. With Lupin compromised, Jigen figured he’d be next. And that meant a couple of things -- it meant he needed to skip town, and he needed to find a way to get in touch with Lupin. He strolled away, hands in the pockets of his tweed coat, casual, but under the fringe of his hair, his eyes were flicking back and forth, watching. He felt the hard plastic outline of the burner phone in his pocket and grasped it. 

But who would he call? 

Lupin was down for the count. 

Goemon wouldn’t answer even if he did call, so Jigen had no way of finding him until the month was up. 

He was on his own. 

_ Dammit.  _

Jigen nearly jumped a foot in the air when the phone in his hand vibrated. He whipped it out of his pocket so fast, he almost dropped it. He fumbled it, awkwardly clutching it in both hands, mouth dry, heart pounding. A man on the sidewalk nearby gave him a funny stare. 

“My, uh, ma femme,” Jigen lied, stumbling over his French.

The man nodded, but he still looked confused as he walked away. 

Jigen wanted to smack himself. That was lame excuse. The phone was still ringing. He glanced at the screen. It wasn’t Lupin or Goemon. But he couldn’t risk  _ not _ answering it. Not after that headline. He flipped the phone open and held it up to his ear. 

There was a second of silence, then “Jigen?” 

Jigen nearly jumped again. He started walking faster, watching the streets and taking a roundabout way back to his apartment. “Pops?” 

“Is this line secure?” 

“Yeah. For a few minutes.” 

“Thank the gods.” 

“Why? What do you want?” 

“Lupin’s been arrested.” 

“I know.” 

“They’re probably looking for you too.” 

“You wanna tell me something I don’t know? Or did you call just to listen to the melodious sound of my voice?” 

“Sorry.” Zenigata was tense. He paused again, then blurted out, “Lupin’s sick.” 

“What!?” If Jigen could’ve reached through the phone and strangled Zenigata, he would have. He lowered his voice as a few people stared. “What do you mean sick?” 

“I mean sick. What else would I mean?” 

“Ok. So he has a cold. He’s a grown man, he’ll survive.” Jigen had the feeling Zenigata was trying to get him to read between the lines, but he wasn’t sure he followed. He needed more information. Best to play it cool until he figured out what Zenigata wanted. 

“No, Jigen, this is bad. I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

Jigen felt his heart flop into his shoes. “How bad?” 

“Like if we don’t get him out of prison, I don’t think he’ll make it bad.” 

Jigen swore so colorfully he could almost feel Zenigata wince on the other side of the line. “Where is he?” 

“Marseilles-Baumette Penitentiary. Where are you?” 

“Ha. Nice try, Pops. I can be there in half a day. Can you stall?” 

“Yes. How will I reach you again?” 

“You won’t, I’ll find you. Stay in Marseilles till I get there, yeah?” 

“Alright.” 

“And don’t let them move Lupin.”

“I’ll do what I can.” 

“Ten hours, tops. I’ll be there.” 

Jigen hung up and tossed the phone into the street in front of a passing bus. He heard a satisfying crunch a few seconds later. A couple of the bus passengers tried to flag him down but Jigen kept walking and disappeared into a nearby alley. 

He had a train to catch. 

Zenigata hung up the payphone and stared at the wall of the phone booth for a minute. Jigen answered. That was a start. But ten hours was a long time. A very long time. Anything could happen in ten hours. Ellian could get jumpy and decide to move Lupin. Nothing could happen in ten hours. Zenigata could have to put up with the young officer’s bragging for _ten entire hours_. He ran a hand over his face. He was too old to put up with this nonsense. 

Maybe it really was time to retire.

No! Zenigata snapped to attention. What was he thinking? He couldn’t retire! Not until Lupin was brought to justice. 

Well, that had happened, hadn’t it?

Pff. Who was he kidding? Ellian hadn’t brought about justice. He’d brought about fame for himself. In fact, Zenigata wouldn’t be surprised if Ellian delayed the trial just so he could claim the title of holding Lupin in custody the longest. 

But if Ellian let Lupin sit in a cold cell without any attention for the next few days, the thief would be in trouble. Trouble that not even Lupin could worm his way out of. Lupin was living on borrowed time. Zenigata needed to get him out of prison and into a hospital - or at least to a doctor’s office. 

Problem was, Zenigata didn’t have the authority to demand a move. As far as Interpol was concerned, Lupin was right where he needed to be. Zenigata’s current orders were simply to oversee the trial and proceedings, make sure they were official and that Lupin didn’t escape. 

_ Didn’t escape. _

Lupin escaped all the time. 

What if he did it again? 

It wouldn’t be that hard to stage an escape --

Zenigata stopped himself. What was he thinking? Staging an escape...he was starting to sound like Lupin. Zenigata sighed. If he was going to get Lupin out of this mess, he supposed he’d have to think like a thief. This was no time for reservations. He needed to get Lupin out of the Penitentiary. And arrange it so that he was the one transporting the thief. 

Zenigata swallowed hard. If anyone caught on to his plan, he’d lose his job for sure. He’d already dropped off the radar and slid under scrutiny several times in his career. Miraculously, he’d always escaped with his job intact, but the plan rattling around in his brain now amounted to something close to insurrection. 

There was a part of him that found that thrilling. 

A tiny part. 

A part he didn’t want to admit was there. 

Zenigata had purpose in his step as he headed back to the Penitentiary. He had a young officer to harass. 

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be?” Ellian asked. 

“Nope.” Zenigata loudly slurped a noodle out of his instant ramen cup, chair tilted back and feet propped up on the windowsill in Ellian’s office. “Not since you were so thorough out there, officer. My job now is to observe the proceedings and make sure Lupin gets a fair trial. Surely you don’t mind me staying here, do you? Interpol usually puts me up, but --”

“No,” Ellian interrupted through gritted teeth. “No, I don’t mind at all, Inspecteur.” 

“Oh good.” Zenigata slurped another noodle and tried not to smile. He gave Ellian a few seconds of quiet before he started up again. “You know, I’m surprised they’re waiting this long for Lupin’s trial.” 

“What?” Ellian looked up from the paperwork he was pretending to do. 

“A week’s a long time to keep Arsené Lupin in custody. Shouldn’t you push for a faster trial?” 

“And why is that, old man?” Ellian put his pen down and steepled his fingers in an attitude of false patience. 

Zenigata ignored the jibe.  _ Only ten hours. Well, eight now _ . “What if Lupin escapes before his trial?” 

Ellian sighed. “He can’t escape. We’ve got him in the most secure cell in the Penitentiary. He’s got an around the clock guard. There are surveillance cameras everywhere and I’ve got everyone on the alert for any suspicious intruders, just in case his gang tries something funny.” 

Zenigata nodded sagely. “You think that’s enough?” 

“Of course I think that’s enough!” Ellian lost his patience and slammed a hand onto his desk. “What else do you want me to do?” 

“I once watched Lupin con his way out of a single cell, guarded by yours truly, on top of a mountain, with a lock only I could open.” Zenigata stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. 

“Probably because you opened it and let him out,” Ellian muttered under his breath. Zenigata heard it -- whether Ellian meant for him to or not. 

“Now why would I do that?” Zenigata asked, keeping his tone neutral. Ellian was right -- in a way. Zenigata  _ had _ opened the cell, but only because he thought Lupin was dead. In hindsight, it was one of Lupin’s more masterful cons and Zenigata could respect that. From a certain angle. 

“I don’t know, Inspecteur,” Ellian drawled. “Maybe it’s because you have a soft spot for our infamous thief?” 

“If you’re asking if I want him dead, the answer to that question is no. I want him brought to justice.” 

“And if justice demands he die?” Ellian asked. 

Zenigata put a giant forkful of noodles in his mouth to stall. What if justice did demand the death of Lupin? It was a question that Zenigata asked himself all the time. And one that he figured he’d only really be able to answer in the moment. If that moment ever came. He swallowed and looked Ellian in the eye. “Then justice will be served.” 

Ellian held his gaze until it was apparent that Zenigata wasn’t looking away. Ellian looked away first. He sighed and picked up his pen, going back to scribbling on his paperwork. 

“Still,” Zenigata said as he continued to slurp his noodles. “I’d be a little anxious if I were in your shoes. Having to hold onto the world’s greatest escape artist. Nasty business when he escapes and your superiors start questioning you. Trust me, I should know.” 

Zenigata looked down into his noodle cup, but he watched Ellian from under the brim of his hat. The young officer glanced up sharply and there was a spark of fear in his eyes -- the fear of losing his reputation. Good. Zenigata smiled into his cup. 

That was a start. 

“You cry wolf one more time, Zenigata, I’m arresting you for obstruction of justice!” Ellian shouted, just inches from Zenigata’s face. They were standing outside Lupin’s cell in the hallway. Ellian was red-faced and breathing hard. Zenigata, by contrast, was the picture of calm. 

“I didn’t cry wolf,” Zenigata said. “I merely suggested you check on your prisoner in person. Lupin has been known to fudge security footage before.” 

“Just like how you suggested that I screen all my staff and lock the gates and require ridiculous pass-phrases just to walk through the building!” 

“You’re the one in charge here, officer,” Zenigata said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I’m merely suggesting the types of precautions I might take if I were in your shoes. You don’t have to listen.” 

Ellian took a deep breath and raised a finger, but stopped with his mouth open. He shut it. He had no comeback to that. 

It took all of Zenigata’s willpower not to smile. 

“Look, just stay out of my way, old man,” Ellian finally snarled. “I don’t want you suggesting anything else. This is my beat, my prisoner. I think I can handle it without you.”

“Yes, sir,” Zenigata drawled, touching the brim of his hat in a salute. “Of course, sir.” 

Ellian narrowed his eyes. 

Zenigata flashed him a smile. 

Ellian spun on his heel and walked out of the hall. 

“That was downright devious, Pops.” 

Zenigata didn’t turn to look at the thief. He knew Ellian would be waiting for them to talk, watching like a hawk now to see if Zenigata was conspiring with Lupin. But he waited, in case the thief had anything else to say. He did.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

_ Me neither,  _ Zenigata thought as he walked out of the cell block and back into the main office. It killed him not to respond to Lupin, not to try to give the thief some sort of hope. But he was hoping Lupin was way ahead of him. And it was crucial to his plans now that Ellian not be able to report any dirt on him. Instead, Zenigata had a report of his own to make. 

Privately. 

Away from the prison and Ellian’s watching eyes. 

Zenigata congratulated himself as he walked outside. It had only been eight hours. Two to go. Less if he was lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jigen's "lame" excuse about who's calling him is "my wife" in case you're curious ;)


	3. Chapter Three

Marseilles-Baumette Penitentiary looked like pretty much any other prison. Grey concrete walls, barbed wire fencing, cameras, floodlights, guards, the whole nine yards. Jigen sighed and dropped the binoculars to dangle by their cord around his neck. He sat back against the trunk of his treetop perch and rubbed his eyes. Eight and a half hours. He’d made it in record time. Traveling at break-neck speed wore him out, but he didn’t have time to rest. If Zenigata were correct, Lupin was in that building. And he needed help. 

Of course, this could all be an elaborate trap set by Zenigata to reel in the rest of the gang, but Jigen didn’t think so. For one, it was imperfect. It wouldn’t catch Goemon -- at least, not without warning. And two, Zenigata sounded pretty worried over the phone. Pops was a lot of things, but a good liar wasn’t one of them. Even if he was trying to use this opportunity to trap Lupin and company, Jigen was pretty sure Pops was telling the truth about Lupin’s condition. Which meant he needed to find the Inspector and he needed to find him quick. 

Preferably outside of the prison. 

Jigen sat up straighter as a lone figure walked out of the prison’s front doors and headed for a car in the parking lot. He picked up his binoculars again and focused on the figure. Pops! Now where was he going all alone in the early evening hours? Jigen needed to follow that car. He shimmied down the tree and backtracked to his own rented vehicle, carefully concealed in some nearby bushes. He threw a couple of branches off the car and jumped inside. Then he eased out onto the road and focused on the prison with his binoculars again. 

There was Pops in his grey sedan pulling out of the gates. Jigen put his car in gear and pulled out behind Zenigata. 

Zenigata saw the car. At first, he thought it might be Ellian following him, but he was pretty sure that the young officer’s enthusiasm didn’t extend that far. In fact, Zenigata was certain that Ellian would be happy to never see him again. 

Or maybe Ellian was zealous enough to arrange for a convenient accident to get Zenigata out of the way. Either way, Zenigata drove aimlessly for about twenty minutes to see if his shadow would disappear. It didn’t. 

It was nondescript as cars went, just a four door family vehicle, white, with no distinctive markings or tags. Probably a rental, so even if he did run the plates, he wouldn’t be able to trace it to a definitive owner. That seemed a little underhanded for Ellian. And a little obvious. 

Zenigata glanced at his dashboard clock. It had been just over eight and a half hours. 

No way. 

There was no way. 

He’d said ten hours. 

Then again, Zenigata had learned over the years not to underestimate Jigen, especially when Lupin was involved. He couldn’t get a clear view of the driver through the glare of the headlights, but he thought the person looked tall. It would be just like Jigen to tail him around the city, waiting on a chance to confront him when he knew he had the upper hand. Zenigata was reasonably certain that Jigen was being obvious on purpose. After all, the gunman was good at not being seen when he wanted to be. 

Zenigata decided to play it like he was oblivious and headed for the nearest phone. 

Pops was smart. A lot smarter than his superiors gave him credit for. Jigen had no doubt that the inspector knew he was being followed. And probably that it was Jigen tailing him, too. But for some reason, Zenigata didn’t stop or confront him. So, Jigen just kept following him, eyes on the road, flicking back and forth, watching for any signs of a trap. Just because Zenigata appeared to be complacent didn’t mean he was. 

In the end, Zenigata parked outside a bar on a side street. The building was small and sandwiched between bigger, more impressive buildings, almost going unnoticed for its lack of grandeur. Its blue paint was faded, but clean, and there were a few wrought iron tables and chairs on the sidewalk. A hand-written sign on the door read _Open._ There weren’t very many people or cars around. Jigen waited at the end of the block, watching to make sure that Zenigata got out of his car and went inside. He did. And it was definitely Pops, no mistake. 

Jigen circled the block, parked his car in a nearby alley, and watched the building for several minutes. Zenigata didn’t come back out. Jigen sighed. He was being a superstitious ninny. If Zenigata was inside the restaurant, then all Jigen had to do was follow. He had his magnum -- he reached back and gave the cold steel a reassuring touch. He had his wits and his survival instincts. 

And probably the best disguise in the history of disguises. So even if Zenigata knew he’d been followed by Jigen, Jigen figured his disguise alone would make Zenigata do a double take and give him the chance to react first. 

Jigen sighed. He was getting too old for this. Too old for the constant watching over his shoulder, for running, for hiding, for second-guessing and pretending to be some harmless member of society. The truth was, Jigen was dangerous and he knew it. He’d never truly be able to blend in and he’d known that from the day he first picked up a gun. But just for once, he’d like to be able to walk into a building without casing it first. He’d like to be able to just get a drink without the cold steel of his magnum at his back. He’d like to stop following and being followed. 

He really was getting too old for this. Hell, they all were. They’d been playing at this game for a long time. Maybe it was time to slow down, just a little. 

Maybe it was time he talked some sense into Lupin.

Jigen laughed at himself. Who was he fooling? Talking sense into Lupin was like convincing a brick wall to step out of your way. He shook his head and took a second glance up and down the street. All clear. He got out of the car, adjusted his glasses, straightened his bow-tie, and headed inside. 

The bar was empty when he walked in. The interior of the building was mostly paneled in wood, decorated with a few tasteful antiques, some local newspaper clippings, and pictures of food. There were a few scattered tables in the restaurant area of the room and only two of them were occupied by dusty looking locals in clean but well-worn clothes. Neither table seated Zenigata. One table had two old men playing chess and the other table had a bookish-looking woman reading a newspaper through spectacles perched on the end of her nose. It was a sleepy neighborhood restaurant at the tail end of the day, most of the hip crowds gone or moved on to other places. If he weren’t on such an urgent mission, this was just the kind of out-of-the-way place Jigen would frequent in the evenings. 

He walked up to the bar just as an older fellow with grey hair and a thick mustache walked out from a backroom, carrying two plates with slices of apple pie on his arm. He looked somewhat surprised to see Jigen, but he waved toward the room and told Jigen to take a seat. Jigen sat down at the bar and noticed a couple of ashtrays along its length. He lit a cigarette. The barkeep delivered the pie to the two old men and came back up to the bar. 

“What can I get for you, sir?” he asked. 

“Well, a whiskey for one,” Jigen said. He knew he really should be asking about Pops first, but he needed something to wake himself up. 

“Sure thing.” The barkeep poured Jigen a glass and handed it over. Jigen took a slow sip. Ah. That hit the spot. Things were a little more balanced in the world now. 

“And for two?” the barkeep asked as Jigen set his glass down. 

Jigen smiled. The man was perceptive. 

“For two, you can tell me if you saw another fellow come in here. About my height, black hair, trench coat, fedora. Probably scowling like it’s all he knows how to do. Maybe asked you for a phone?” 

The barkeep nodded, eyes going a bit wider as Jigen spoke. “A fellow like that did come in here just a few minutes ago. I sent him upstairs to use the office phone. He said that you might follow and ask about him.” The barkeep leaned forward over the bar. “What’s all this about?” 

Jigen snuffed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “Just business,” he waved a hand. “Can you point the way upstairs?” 

The barkeep looked like he had a million more questions to ask, but instead he crossed his arms. “The fellow who came in before me told me I was supposed to ask you something before I let you follow him.” 

Jigen chuckled. _Pops, you sly dog._ “Sure, ask away.” 

“He told me to ask you how you’d call the samurai?” 

Jigen answered without hesitation. “You can’t. He won’t answer his phone.” 

The barkeep looked confused, as if Jigen had delivered a punchline to a joke he didn’t get. “That’s what he said you’d say. Follow me.” The barkeep gestured behind the bar. Jigen downed the rest of his whiskey, relishing the familiar burn and warmth as it settled in his stomach, tossed a few bills on the bar, then followed the barkeep into the backroom. Right before the kitchen, there was a short hallway with a staircase. “Head on up,” the barkeep said. “Your friend said he’d be waiting.” 

Jigen thanked the man and started up the stairs. The barkeep went back into the bar. When he was gone, Jigen slid his magnum out of its hiding place and held it in front of him. No need to let Pops have the home-field advantage. Jigen held the gun low, out-of-sight, and stopped outside the office door. He thought he heard movement on the other side of the door, but if it was Zenigata, he wasn’t talking. Jigen drew a long, slow breath, then reached up and knocked on the door. 

After a second, a voice said. “Come in.” 

It was Pops. 

Jigen cracked the door open. Zenigata was sitting at a cluttered desk, in an office chair with duct tape on the arms, facing the door. He had one leg crossed over the other, ankle on his knee, and his hat was in his lap, giving Jigen a clear view of his face. He had his hands on the arms of the chair, casual, but visible. He wasn’t holding a gun. 

Jigen let the door swing open, keeping his right hand near his leg so that the silver flash of his magnum wouldn’t give itself away. 

“Pops,” he said. 

Zenigata just stared at him like a fish out of water and made an odd grunting noise at the back of his throat. 

The man who opened the door certainly sounded like Jigen. Zenigata would swear by it. He’d heard the man’s voice enough to know. And he moved like Jigen -- cautious, full of liquid grace and hidden tension, like a taut wire that could snap any minute. He was Jigen’s height and his hair was the right color, but everything else about the man was wrong. 

He wore a faded brown tweed suit with leather patches on the elbows over a blue button up shirt and cream sweater vest. There was a plaid bowtie at his neck that clashed with the suit just enough to be noticeable, but not garish. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose, and the flat newsboy-style cap on his head was tilted back so that Zenigata could see his face. 

His angular, clean-shaven, _beardless_ face.

There was no beard. 

No mustache. 

Nothing. 

Not one bit of facial hair.

Zenigata could do nothing but stare. 

Belatedly, he realized that the man had his right hand half-hidden by his trouser leg -- probably armed. If this was Jigen, Zenigata had no way to react fast enough to avoid a shot from that magnum. But, if this was Jigen, he had no reason to shoot right now.

If this _was_ Jigen...where was his beard?

The man smirked. 

“C’mon, Pops, you can’t tell me you thought I didn’t know how to shave.” He moved his right hand as he spoke, showing Zenigata his silver magnum, finger clearly off the trigger. Then he slid the gun into his waistband and pulled off the cap and spectacles. His hair was a little shorter than usual, but still shaggy, although it was brushed to the sides so that it framed his face instead of falling into his eyes. A faded cut slashed across his forehead, trailing back under his hair on the right side. Otherwise, he looked for all the world like a harmless, out-dated college professor. He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a little silver lighter from his pants pocket. “I even used a straight-razor, man.” 

When Zenigata finally got control of his mouth again, he stammered, “J-jigen?” 

The mystery man nodded and shut the office door behind him. “In the flesh. It’s really me, Pops. Daisuke Jigen.” 

“But...your…” Zenigata didn’t even get the word out. Instead, he reached up and touched his chin. 

“Oh, that.” Jigen huffed the words in a breath of smoke like they were no big deal. Then he sighed. “We had to go to ground. For real this time. I mean, damn, we haven’t been pursued like this since...hmph,” he half-chuckled, “since we were still wet behind the ears.” He reached up and touched his own chin, as if still wondering at the lack of facial hair himself. “This is the best disguise I’ve ever thought up.” He winked at Zenigata. “Admit it, it fooled you.” 

Zenigata let out a pent-up breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “It’s good, I’ll give you that,” he finally said. “I would never in a million years have thought to look for you without...you know.” Zenigata found himself tongue-tied again, like mentioning Jigen’s beard would break some sort of sacred code. In all the years he’d known the man, he’d never known Jigen to willingly go without his hat or his beard, especially the latter. Seeing him now without either...well, it was almost like seeing a ghost.

“I know,” Jigen said. And there was something feral in the grin he gave Zenigata through his cigarette smoke. “Now, brass tacks, Pops. What’d you drag me here for?” 

Zenigata gave a little start. “Right. Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat. “I apologize for being a little unprepared, but you _are_ early.” Zenigata gave Jigen his best glare. 

Jigen shrugged. 

Zenigata picked up a manilla folder off the desk beside him and held it out to Jigen. “See for yourself,” he said. 

Jigen walked over and pushed a few papers off the desk, ignoring Zenigata’s pained look. He sat on the edge of the desk and thumbed the contents of the folder, swearing loudly at each new page. 

“So, you think it’s legitimate?” Zenigata asked when he was done, leaning forward curiously. 

“That ass!” Jigen fumed. “Yes, it’s legitimate. He walked at least five miles in the sleet and rain that night. And he probably didn’t show his face in anything that qualified as a town for at least a week. I bet he gave himself pneumonia, the idiot.”

“The night of the failed heist?” Zenigata asked. 

Jigen gave him a glare, as if he were surprised Zenigata knew about it, but then he shrugged. “Yeah. The night of the car crash.” 

“That where you get this?” Zenigata traced a finger on his own head in mirror of the cut on Jigen’s. 

Jigen nodded. “That wreck damn near scalped me. I’m lucky it wasn’t my eye.”

“And Lupin? Was he injured that night?” 

Jigen looked back down at the folder. “Probably. It was kinda hard to tell in the dark and the rain. Nothing major. Nothing I could definitively see. But that wreck was…” Jigen sighed. “It was a miracle we all walked away, Pops.” 

“Goemon too?” 

“Yeah. Him too. Broken arm, I think. He’ll be fine, though. Nothing short of death is going to keep that samurai down. Even then, you’d probably have to kill him twice. Just to make sure.” 

Zenigata laughed. “Sounds about right. Lupin said he’d be unreachable though.” 

“Unfortunately. The fool can’t operate technology to save his life.” 

“Not even to save Lupin’s life?” 

Jigen looked up sharply. He leaned forward, his very presence _intense._ Zenigata fought the urge to lean away. “Look, Pops, Goemon is loyal to the last drop of blood in his body. But I can’t magic him up out of thin air. So, you’ve got me. Take it or leave it. But you can rest assured that I _will_ be breaking Lupin out of that prison, whether you’re in on it or not. So, are you with me or against me?” 

Zenigata sat up straighter, anger putting a ramrod stiffness in his spine. “No, _you_ look here, Daisuke Jigen.” He jabbed a finger at Jigen’s chest. “You are a wanted man. The only reason I called you in on this one is that I can’t legally break Lupin out of prison. I want to see the man behind bars, but I don’t want him dead for the sake of some tomfool young officer’s ego. This is my gig, my rules, and my plan. Or else I will sick that tomfool young officer back on your tail and watch him chase you all over France. And maybe help. Is that clear?” 

Zenigata thought he saw the faintest spark of concern pass across Jigen’s face, but then the gunman crossed his arms over his chest, cool as ever, a faint frown on his lips. He took a long inhale on his cigarette, then reached up and pulled it out of his mouth. He exhaled. “Fine. We do this your way, Pops. What have you got?”


	4. Chapter Four

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a devious old dog?” Jigen asked.

Zenigata sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone keep calling me old? That snobby French officer, I get. But you, Jigen? Hell, you’re not any younger.”

Jigen snorted. “Don’t remind me.” 

Zenigata gave him a sideways glance, but Jigen was focused on the map laid out on the desk in front of them, his third cigarette between his teeth. 

“And yes,” Zenigata said. 

“Huh?” Jigen looked up. 

“Yes. I’ve been called devious, sly, and clever, among other things much less complimentary.”

Jigen laughed. “Well, I’ve got to say, staging a break-out for Lupin has to take the cake on the list of underhanded things you’ve done.” 

“Well, there was that one time I actually asked Lupin to teach me to be a thief,” Zenigata mumbled. 

“Psh, seems it worked. This plan is...pretty solid, Pops.” 

Zenigata looked back down at the map. “It’s got to be. Ellian is pretty sharp. That, and if I don’t cover my tracks here, I’m pretty sure this’ll be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.” 

“You mean with Interpol?” 

Zenigata grunted. 

Jigen whistled. “You’re gonna risk your career for him?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Zenigata muttered. 

Jigen hid a smile. Then he plopped down in the desk chair and rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired. More tired than a body had a right to be. But he needed to keep sharp for this one. “Alright, so, I get the gist of what we’re going for. Tell me more about this Ellian character. He’s the one who spear-headed the museum fiasco, right?” 

“Right.” Zenigata nodded. He reached over and pulled a photograph out of the manilla folder, the contents of which were spread over the desk along with the map. He handed it to Jigen. Jigen took it and looked at a picture of a fresh, crisp young officer, standing at attention in his dress uniform. Every line of the uniform was pressed and sharp, his hat at a severe angle, hands stiff by his sides, mouth a straight line, eyes bright, head up. The very picture of perfection. Yup, he was the one from the museum, alright.

“Ellian Charpentier,” Zenigata said. “Newly promoted, young, fresh, eager to make a name for himself. More concerned with fame than justice.” 

Jigen scowled. “Those’re the stupid ones.” 

“He’s in it for the glory and nothing else. Which means he’s dangerous. He’ll cut corners if he thinks it’ll get him to his goal. He won’t show mercy and he won’t ask questions. He’ll shoot first.” 

“Not if I shoot firster." Jigen smirked. 

“That’s not even a word.” 

Jigen grinned that feral grin again. 

Zenigata sighed. “You’ve been around Lupin too long.” 

“Probably,” Jigen agreed. “So what do we do with ol’ Elly here?” 

Zenigata cracked a smile at the nickname. “We let his own eagerness be his downfall. I’ve already planted a lot of ideas in his head and gotten him real good and worked up. He’s jumpy, he’s on edge, and he’s starting to piss off his staff. He’s bordering on paranoia. Passcodes, facial inspections, obsessive rounds in the cell block, that sort of thing.” 

“Sounds just like you, Pops,” Jigen said. 

Zenigata scowled. 

“I’m impressed,” Jigen continued. “You got all that done in less than eight hours?” 

“Six.” Zenigata puffed up a little. “It was easy. The kid’s a live wire anyway.” 

“Right. So, we’ve got a wired little nut guarding Lupin. Doesn’t that make our job harder?” 

“No. Because now, I call Interpol and report the ‘wired little nut’ and they give me permission to move Lupin.” 

“They do?” 

“They will.” 

Jigen shrugged. “Ok. But even if they do, they can’t get you orders to move him that fast.” 

“That’s where you come in,” Zenigata said. 

Jigen looked up at him, waiting for him to offer an explanation. He wasn’t exactly sure he liked where this was going. 

“You’re going to forge me some Interpol orders so that I can walk in, throw them at Ellian, and announce that I’m taking the prisoner. And then, while ‘waiting at the truck’” Zenigata described air quotes with his fingers, “you’re going to meddle with the camera feed at the Marseilles-Baumette so that we can make up a story about how Lupin swapped places with me and walked out as me, dragging me, as him, as prisoner behind him.” 

“Hold the phone, Pops.” Jigen held up his hands. “You do realize that forging Interpol documents is, like, international crime?” 

“Yes.” 

“And that you would definitely get worse than fired for this?”

“Yes.” 

“And in light of that, you _still_ want me to make it look like Lupin pulls the wool over your eyes and escapes?”

“Yes.” Zenigata stared back at him as if he were suggesting the most normal thing in the world. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do.” 

“I mean, I’m all in for this and everything, but why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why go to all the trouble to plan this escape?” 

“Diplomatic immunity,” Zenigata said. 

Jigen raised an eyebrow. 

“This way, if anyone asks, I can claim that Lupin pulled one of his great escapes and no one will be the wiser. Ellian will look stupid for not catching on that I wasn’t the real Zenigata, Lupin will escape and I can get him to a doctor. And if we play this right, Interpol will never suspect a thing and I keep my badge at the end of the day. It’s a win-win.” 

Jigen stared at Zenigata for a good long while. That wasn’t really the answer he’d been looking for, but it was just like Pops. So thorough, so straight-forward, so...embarrassed by his own feelings. Jigen laughed. 

“What’s so funny?” Zenigata demanded. 

“Nothing. I just...I gotta say it again. I’m impressed, Pops. When you put your mind to it, you really can think like a thief. You ever consider a career on the wrong side of the law?” 

Zenigata’s face went red. “Never.” 

“You’d be good at it.” Jigen waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. 

Zenigata crossed his arms and looked away. “No.” 

Jigen shrugged. “Have it your way, then.” He looked back down at the map of Marseilles-Baumette and the red lines traced on it, showing their routes into and out of the building. He had to hand it to Zenigata. His plan was thorough. He had alibis and cover stories and everything. Now, all they had to do was call Interpol, forge some documents, and come up with a police disguise for Jigen in the next few hours. Jigen shook his head. This was shaping up to be one Lupin-style heist. He could already feel the familiar thread of adrenaline singing through his veins. 

Maybe he wasn’t too old for this quite yet. 

“Well, I guess you better make that call to Interpol, huh, Pops?”

“Right,” Zenigata said gruffly. 

Jigen looked around the room. There was an old computer sitting on the desk and an equally dinorsauric printer sitting on a small end table on one side of the room. He slid the office chair over to the computer and woke it up. It didn’t even require a password. He cracked his knuckles. He should be able to work with this. “In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do about those documents.” 

“I’m taking the prisoner!” Zenigata announced as he burst into Ellian’s office a few hours later. He tried not to sound too pleased when he said it. He’d always wanted to say that. Jigen tailed in a few steps behind him, wearing a crisp black suit and trench coat, similar to Zenigata’s. He had a fedora back on his head, slouched over his eyes as usual, and he’d ditched the glasses. He took up a position by the door and quietly watched the proceedings. Zenigata waited for a nervous moment to see if Ellian would recognize anything about Jigen, but the young officer didn’t even give Jigen a second glance. He was entirely focused on Zenigata.

“What are you talking about, old man?” he demanded.

Zenigata resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Orders. From Interpol. I’m taking Lupin with me.” 

“Now?” Ellian’s eyebrows shot up. “It...it’s nearly midnight!” 

“That’s kind of what I thought when they told me you were still at work,” Zenigata said. 

Ellian spluttered something incomprehensible in answer.

“But to answer your question, yes, now.” 

“Where?” Ellian demanded. 

“To a more secure location,” Zenigata said smugly. “It’s highly confidential. I hope you understand.” 

“B-but.” Ellian paused and sat up straighter, anger replacing his confusion. “You can’t do this! This is my case. My jurisdiction.” Ellian stood up. “I will not hand over my most dangerous prisoner without good reason.” 

Zenigata tossed a stack of papers onto Ellian’s desk. 

“What are those?” Ellian snarled. 

“Good reason,” Zenigata said. “Interpol changed their minds. Decided they want Lupin to have an international trial, not a local thing in France. That and they find your behavior...worrisome. They want Lupin moved to a more secure location.” 

“ _My_ behavior?” Ellian was incredulous.

“Read the orders, if you want. I believe they cited you for over-anxious tendencies, paranoia, and an inability to properly manage your own staff. Nothing personal, of course, but it does lead to some concerns about your ability to properly contain a criminal of such high caliber as Lupin III.” 

Ellian grabbed the papers and started scanning them. Zenigata had to admit, Jigen had done a damn good job on the forgeries. Even he hadn’t been able to tell the difference and he’d seen countless Interpol reports. It was pretty impressive work, considering the only tools at Jigen’s disposal were the barkeep’s old tech and the internet. Crazy what you could find on the internet these days. 

Ellian’s face grew redder and redder as he read the report. Zenigata had read the report first, of course. Jigen very adeptly ripped the boy a new one in it, all while managing to maintain a chillingly professional tone. If he ever gave up being Lupin’s right hand, the man should consider a career in writing. Actually, check that, he probably shouldn’t, because he’d probably sell his services as a forger.

“So,” Zenigata clapped his hands together. “I hope you can see why me and my partner here need to move Lupin now. I’ve got a prisoner transport truck ready outside. I just need Lupin. You can even supervise the transfer if you want, officer.” Zenigata’s smile was practically blinding. He thought he heard a slight chuckle from Jigen behind him. 

Ellian’s eyes snapped up from the report to practically smolder a hole through Zenigata’s chest. Ellian threw the report back onto his desk. “I would very much like that, Inspecteur,” he growled through gritted teeth. 

“Excellent. That means my partner can go get the truck in place. Right, Watson?” Zenigata turned and asked Jigen. 

Jigen sighed. He’d thought the codename ridiculous, but Zenigata rather liked the nod to the famous English detective, Sherlock Holmes, and his sidekick, Dr. Watson. He felt it was rather fitting, especially since Jigen was his sidekick for this mission. Now that was a truly odd notion. Jigen, his sidekick. Zenigata shook his head and brought himself back to the present as Jigen gave him a casual salute and disappeared out the door. 

But not to go to the truck. 

The truck was already in place. 

Jigen was headed for the control room. What Ellian didn’t know was that Jigen was equipped with a jammer that would scramble camera feed so that he could walk through the building undetected. 

Zenigata had made it clear that he couldn’t kill anyone on this mission, so he’d also come armed with a tranquilizer gun (although Zenigata suspected he was carrying his magnum somewhere on his person, too.) Zenigata stood in front of Ellian’s desk, smiling at him until he’d counted out enough time for Jigen to get down the hall and out of sight. 

“Well, officer?” he asked. “Shall we?” 

Ellian glared daggers at Zenigata as he retrieved his key-ring from his desk. “After you, Inspecteur,” he growled. 

Jigen hurried through the hallway, following the route he’d memorized back at the bar. This whole plan was ridiculous. On so many levels. It was thorough, but it was ridiculous. He was going to have to scramble a few days worth of security feed, make it look hunky dory, at least to a casual observer, contain some guards, and do it all without getting caught (or killing anybody). Then he was supposed to rejoin Zenigata as he left the prison with Lupin. And all of that running on just a few hours of sleep. Jigen would love nothing more than a nice bed right now. Hell, at this point, he’d even take a pillow and a chair somewhere.

Jigen shook his head. Where did these guys pull these insane ideas from? Zenigata was just as bad as Lupin. Probably because he’d spent his whole life chasing Lupin. Those two thought way more alike than they knew.

And Jigen was always caught in the middle of it.

He wished Goemon was here. At least then he’d have someone to complain to. Goemon made for a very good listener. Jigen wasn’t always sure that he really cared about his complaints, but he always listened and nodded seriously at the right points and made Jigen feel like there was at least some sympathy for him. That and Goemon was peer-none with that sword of his. It would be good to have Zantetsuken at his back right now. Just in case. 

Jigen passed a few people in the hall on the way to the control room. This late at night, it was mostly guards making their rounds. He waved at them, smiled, made himself as unobtrusive and unmemorable as possible. Jigen had found that one of the best ways to blend in was to turn yourself into something so perfectly normal and ordinary that no one could point out a defining feature about you. Without his beard, and wearing a generic suit in a building full of generic suits, he fit the bill perfectly. No one stopped him or even gave him a second glance. Of course, his forged Interpol badge probably helped. That and the fact that he kept his head up and his step sure, as if he had all the right in the world to be where he was. 

He reached the control room without a hitch. A cautious glance though the little window in the security door showed him two guards sitting in front of a bank of computers, coffee cups in hand, chatting casually with each other. One of them laughed and the other took a swig from his cup. Neither one of them was paying particularly close attention to the bank of screens. Jigen glanced up and down the hall. Empty. 

He tested the doorknob. It turned easily in his hand. He pulled his tranquilizer gun from his waistband and held it ready in his other hand. Then he eased the door open just enough that he could fit the barrel of the gun between the door and the frame. 

He pulled the trigger twice. 

There were two muffled barks, two quiet thumps, and then Jigen pulled the door shut again. 

He watched through the window as both guards jumped up, looking at each other in surprise. One of the guards pointed at the dart in the other guard’s neck before dropping his coffee cup as his legs went out from under him. He collapsed as if in slow motion to the floor. The second guard staggered forward, hand reaching for a phone on the console, but his fingers barely touched it as he too slumped to the floor. Jigen gave it a count of thirty before he opened the door and walked in. He dragged the two guards over to the wall so that they wouldn’t be visible to anyone who might happen to look through the little window, then he locked the door and sat down at the console. 

This was going to be a lot of work. 

But first, he needed to find -- there! He leaned over the console, eyes glued on one of the cameras looking down at a cell. There was only one occupant in the cell, lying on the lone cot, eyes closed, half-turned from the camera. But that was Lupin. 

Jigen felt his breath catch in his throat. Pops was right. He’d never seen Lupin look this rough. Even on the grainy security image, Jigen could see the shadows in the hollows on Lupin’s face. The shadow of a beard -- a freaking beard. Lupin never had a beard unless there was something seriously out of balance in the universe. What a twist. Jigen unconsciously ran a hand over his own smooth chin.

Then he shook himself. He didn’t have time for thinking. Now was the time for doing.

He looked down at the console and started typing commands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Zenigata talks about the time he asked Lupin to teach him to be a thief, he's referring to a red jacket episode (sorry, I don't remember the number/name) where he comes to Lupin and asks for Lupin's help in recovering a family heirloom (if I remember right...) in return for not arresting him for a day.


	5. Chapter Five

It was cold down here in the cells, Lupin thought. But maybe that was just because he had a fever. He was pretty certain of that. He’d never shivered so hard in his entire life. They’d brought in a doctor. A sham of a doctor, but a doctor none-the-less, who had given Lupin barely a second glance, declared him to have a bad cold, and left some nasty purple cough syrup for him. 

It had been delivered with his evening meal, but Lupin hadn’t touched it, just like he hadn’t touched the food. He wasn’t sure if he should be more worried that he wasn’t hungry or that the mere sight of food made him nauseous. He supposed they were both equally as worrying. There was going to be no curing himself by stuffing his face this time. 

Zenigata had been back down to the cell a few times now too, usually accompanied by that French officer, Charpentier. Besides the first time, he hadn’t spoken a word to Lupin. In fact, he hadn’t even looked twice at him since then. Lupin tried catching Zenigata’s eye, throwing him hand signals and questioning glances, but the Inspector might as well have been made of stone for all the attention he gave Lupin. Had that first conversation just been false hope? Was it a way for Zenigata to try to catch Jigen and Goemon in his loop? Surely not. Pops wasn’t that devious. Was he? 

Or maybe Lupin had just imagined the whole conversation, like he’d imagined the beach and the girls and the sun and the…

Damn it. 

He was hallucinating now. Not enough to call it crazy, per se, but enough to label it as a lucid dream, surely. Lupin levered his eyes open with some effort. He was still in the cell, still lying on his cot, still staring at a concrete wall, still surrounded by nothing but metal and stone. Still cold, still bone tired. Still in prison. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was late, he knew that much. The lights in his cell block had gone out hours ago. Lupin had been expecting a rescue by now, but no such luck. 

And maybe that was the problem. He was expecting a rescue. But who was going to rescue him? 

If Pops couldn’t contact Jigen, then Jigen and Goemon didn’t even know he was here. At least, not until they saw a newspaper or a TV somewhere, both of which they might be actively avoiding -- after all, their faces were plastered all over the news as accomplices of the failed heist. Still, his arrest had to have gone viral by now. Pops knew where he was, of course, but he didn’t seem to be doing anything about it. And in fact, why should he? He was an enemy, an Interpol officer, and his life’s goal was to see Lupin behind bars. Lupin was exactly where he wanted him. Why in the world would he bust him out? 

Lupin sighed and shut his eyes again. 

His head hurt and this train of thought wasn’t helping. 

Just then he heard the door to the hallway open and two sets of footsteps entered. They were both in a hurry, one following closely behind the other. He heard Charpentier’s voice a moment later. 

“...highly irregular, Inspecteur. I should really clear this with my superiors before --” 

“Before what?” that was Zenigata. The footsteps paused. “Before they run afoul of Interpol for not following orders? I gave you the official paperwork, Ellian. What more do you want?” 

There was a long stretch of silence. 

“That’s what I thought,” Zenigata said. “Now open this door.” 

Lupin was immediately awake. He sat up and peered out at the hallway. There were faint lights on now and he could make out Zenigata and Charpentier standing at his cell door. He blinked a few times just to make sure they weren’t a hallucination. They continued to stand at his door. He tried convincing himself they weren’t real. They continued to stand there. 

A key turned in the lock. 

The door opened. 

Lupin just sat and stared for a few seconds. Surely hallucinations didn’t break you out of prison. 

“Pops?” 

He barely got the word out. His voice had taken a vacation in the last few hours, and what was merely scratchy before was now barely above a husky whisper. Lupin tried to clear his throat, but only succeeded in triggering a coughing fit. He hunched over, struggling for breath for a few minutes. When he got control of himself again, Zenigata was standing at his shoulder. 

“Yeah, it’s me, kid. C’mon, we’re leaving.” 

“What? Where?” Lupin asked, incredulous. He glanced between Zenigata and Charpentier. There was something going unspoken here. Charpentier was giving Zenigata a glare that would melt the polar ice caps. Zenigata was clearly ignoring it. 

Zenigata hauled him to his feet. Lupin wasn’t going to say it, but he was glad Pops had an iron grip on his arm. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stand up so straight. 

“Interpol’s orders. I’m taking you to a more secure location.” 

Lupin rolled his eyes. “I feel safer already.” 

Zenigata pulled Lupin’s hands behind his back. Lupin didn’t resist. He’d like to say that he invented an ingenious master plan for escape and that he had everything under control and that he knew exactly what was going on. But the truth was, Lupin felt like he was in over his head here. He didn’t have the physical strength to pull an escape right now, nor was he at the top of his mental game. In some ways, having Zenigata transport him wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. After all, his chances of escape under Zenigata’s watch were significantly better. But he wasn’t sure if Zenigata was trying to help him, or if he was actually following Interpol orders. 

From Charpentier’s facial expressions, whatever was happening wasn’t with his consent. But he wasn’t stopping Zenigata, so Zenigata must really have some authority to make the transfer. 

But it had only been...maybe half a day?...since Zenigata first showed up. Surely that wasn’t enough time for Interpol to drag their collective feet and make a decision? And Lupin saw no evidence of Jigen or Goemon being in on the rescue. Had Pops actually tried to reach them? Had they already been captured? Was Pops working alone on this one?

Lupin found that for once, he didn't have all the answers. He’d just have to wait until someone tipped their hand. So, for now, he followed Zenigata’s orders. At least Zenigata was the enemy he knew.

Zenigata was surprised by Lupin’s lack of resistance as he snapped a pair of handcuffs over the thief’s wrists. But then again, Lupin didn’t look like he had much resistance left in him. From the way he leaned heavily into Zenigata’s grip, Zenigata figured he didn’t have a whole lot of anything left in him. Lupin shivered as the cold metal cuffs snapped shut. 

Zenigata kept one hand on his arm and put the other against his shoulder as he guided him out of the cell. As they passed Charpentier, Lupin stumbled. Zenigata wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t do it on purpose, but it caught Zenigata off-guard and Lupin half-staggered against Ellian before Zenigata caught him. Ellian shouted in indignation and grabbed Lupin by the front of his jacket, trying to shove him back toward Zenigata. 

Lupin sneezed, sending a spray of snot onto Ellian’s uniform. 

“How dare you -- !” Ellian drew back a hand as if to hit Lupin, but Zenigata yanked Lupin back and grabbed the young officer’s hand. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. 

Ellian looked up at him angrily, face flaming red. “He did that on purpose!” he accused. 

Zenigata sighed and rolled his eyes. “Even if he did, that doesn’t give you the right to hit your prisoners.” 

Ellian scowled. 

Lupin muttered something that might have been an apology. 

Ellian glared daggers at him. 

Zenigata gave Ellian a warning look and marched Lupin out of his cell and through the hallways of the penitentiary. It was, for the most part, empty. Just a few guards making their rounds and the occasional night staffer. 

Zenigata kept a sharp eye on Lupin as they headed back through intake, through concrete halls and grey walls, past offices and closed doors. Zenigata half-expected Jigen to show up and try to take Lupin from him, but there wasn’t a peep out of the gunman. Hopefully, he was still in the computer room making this whole trip worth it. Zenigata had a moment of clarity where he realized that the lynch pin of his entire plan was a grumpy ex-mobman who was technically his enemy, but he brushed the thought aside and kept going. 

Lupin’s eyes shot restlessly side to side as they walked through the halls, probably trying to find something he could turn to his advantage. But he never once fought Zenigata’s hand on his arm. And then they were in the tunnel leading out to the lower level of the parking garage, where the transport truck was waiting and open. Lupin balked for a second, an involuntary flinch as they entered the tunnel -- that token resistance, the ingrained reaction of someone who hated traps, hated to be tied down, hated the feeling of anything that wasn’t freedom. 

Then he gathered himself and let Zenigata lead him down the tunnel. Zenigata was further struck by how docile Lupin was. Everything about this was wrong. At the very least, Lupin should be trying to talk him out of this. But he was quiet, meek as a lamb. Zenigata wished Jigen would hurry up in the computer room. He wanted the gunman’s expertise on this one. He wanted someone, perhaps the only person, who knew Lupin better than him to assess this situation.

They stepped into the brief section of parking garage before the truck and a cold wind cut across them. Lupin shivered. Zenigata turned just enough that he’d shield Lupin from the wind. 

“P-pops --” Lupin began. 

“Shut up,” Zenigata growled. 

Lupin shut his mouth, a look of surprise on his face. Ellian lingered behind them like a nosy shadow. Zenigata marched Lupin up to the back of a transport truck, looming gun-metal gray in the dim parking deck. There weren’t very many other vehicles in the deck at this time of night, but Lupin could make out some patrol cars in the shadows. 

Zenigata reached up and opened the truck’s back door. 

“Where’s your partner, Zenigata?” Ellian suddenly asked. 

Lupin perked up suddenly, looking around, as if hoping to see a friendly face lurking in the parking garage shadows. The look on his face when he didn’t find anyone nearly killed Zenigata. He’d never seen Lupin look this haggard and hopeless before. His teeth chattered and his breath hitched in his chest. Zenigata resisted the urge to ask him how he was doing. Not in front of Ellian. Not until the deception was complete. Still, he tried to be gentle as he shoved Lupin into the back of the truck. 

“He probably stepped out for a smoke,” Zenigata answered Ellian over his shoulder. 

Lupin settled on the bench on one side of the truck as Zenigata secured his handcuffs to the metal bar mounted into the truck. Zenigata hopped out of the truck. 

“I think you’re lying,” Ellian accused. 

“About what?”

“About where your partner is. Call him up. Call him up right now, or I’ll --” Ellian reached down toward his belt and stopped suddenly, eyes going wide. He patted down his pockets with sudden vigor. “Where is it?” he demanded. 

“Where is what?” Zenigata asked, clearly confused. 

“My radio! What did you do with it, Zenigata?” 

“Nothing,” Zenigata answered, honest, surprised. “Why would I want your radio?” 

Ellian started backing away. “I knew it! I knew you’re on his side, Zenigata! You aren’t moving Lupin, you’re stealing him!” 

“That’s ridiculous, Ellian. You saw the orders. I’m just doing my job.” Zenigata spread his hands and took a few steps forward. Non-threatening, unassuming. He had to stop Ellian before he got back inside and discovered Jigen’s deception. “C’mon, it’s late and you’re probably just --” 

Zenigata didn’t get his sentence out before Ellian spun on his heel and sprinted back inside. He slammed the door to the tunnel behind him and Zenigata thought he heard the lock slam home. 

“Dammit!” Zenigata started to run after him. 

“Pops!” 

He wasn’t quite sure how Lupin managed a voice loud enough to reach him, but he did. 

Zenigata turned and looked back at the truck. Lupin motioned him closer with his head. After a second of hesitation, Zenigata walked up to the back of the truck. 

“Don’t follow him,” Lupin said. 

“Huh?” 

“Don’t.” Lupin shook his head. “He’s baiting you.” Lupin reached awkwardly behind himself and tossed something small and black toward the edge of the truck. The toss was weak and the object skittered to a stop on the floor only halfway to Zenigata, but he could see that it was a police radio. Zenigata stared up at Lupin. He must’ve gotten it when he pretended to stumble back in the cell. While handcuffed, no less.

Zenigata shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done that, Lupin.” 

Lupin shrugged. “Couldn’t resist.” 

“You’ve compromised my inside man, you know."

“If your inside man is who I think it is, he’s more than a match for Charpentier.” 

Zenigata looked up at the thief incredulously. “You know? And you’re playing along?” 

Lupin gave Zenigata a weary grin. 

Jigen saw the red light flash out of the corner of his eye a second before he heard the alarm. 

_Damn it!_

Something had gone wrong. 

His fingers flew over the keyboard on the command console and he hit enter, watching as a green loading bar appeared on the screen. Everything was set, he just needed to make the official switch. He watched as the loading bar progressed. 50, 60, 70%. His hand hovered over the USB stick in the console. Once he got the original video copied onto the stick, then all he had to do was hit delete and his altered video would take its place. He’d just have to hope that it looked good, because he didn’t have time for edits now. 

He heard yelling and pounding feet in the hallway, but so far his luck held. None of the feet stopped at the security door. Ironically, he was probably in the safest place he could be right now. Nobody would think to check the prison’s own security room -- at least not for a while. 

90%. 

Almost there. 

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Crap!

Someone was pounding on the door. Jigen whirled. Ellian Charpentier was plastered up against the door, face pressed to the window, glaring like there was no tomorrow. Jigen stuck his tongue out at the French officer. He took an inane amount of pride in the childish gesture. Ellian cursed loudly enough that Jigen heard him through the door. 

95%. 

Ellian jiggled the doorknob. 

Jigen grabbed the tranquilizer gun off the console, then thought twice about it and grabbed his magnum instead. 

98%. 

Outside the door Elly slammed his foot into the knob. Jigen heard something crack. 

100%

Finally! 

Jigen yanked the USB stick out of the console and shoved it into his pocket. The door slammed open so hard it smashed into the wall. Jigen didn’t even look. He snapped off a shot under his arm. He was rewarded with a yelp of pain and a curse. 

He hit one last key on the console, then looked over at Ellian. The young officer was pale and clutching his right hand to his chest. Blood trickled over his fingers and his gun lay on the floor a few feet away, half-underneath one of the guard’s chairs. He was staring in shock at the two unconscious guards against the wall. 

“They’re not dead,” Jigen said. 

Ellian’s eyes flashed to him for a second, then down to his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Elly. Jigen pointed his magnum right between the young officer’s eyes.

Ellian swallowed hard, but his scowl grew deeper. “My name isn’t --” 

“I don’t have time for proper introductions, kid. I’ve got somewhere to be. Now, get out of the way.” 

“No.” 

Jigen smirked and cocked the hammer on his magnum. “You really want to play this game?” 

Ellian’s eyes flickered to his gun again, but he didn’t move. “I know you. You’re one of Lupin’s partners. From the museum. Except that last time I saw you...you were dressed as a samurai.” Ellian looked confused. 

Jigen nearly laughed out loud. Oh, god. Ellian thought he was Goemon! He supposed he'd have to cut the kid a break -- after all, the last time he saw them, Jigen had a full beard.

Jigen shrugged. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. But I don’t have time to chat. So, move.” Jigen gestured with his gun. 

Ellian was pale, but he shook his head. “You’re working with Zenigata, aren’t you?” 

Jigen thought fast. If he didn’t play this out right, he’d blow Zenigata’s cover. And much as he wanted to leave Zenigata behind, he didn’t want to utterly destroy him. Jigen resumed his nonchalant facade and snorted. “Hardly. I just used the old man to get in here without raising your suspicions. He was a convenient excuse.” 

Ellian narrowed his eyes. 

“Now, I’m only going to say this one more time." Jigen took a few steps closer. “Move.” 

Ellian swallowed hard. “No.” 

Jigen had to hand it to the kid. He might be stupid, but he was brave. 

Jigen sighed. “Fine.” He lunged at the same time Ellian did, but Jigen was faster. He brought his magnum down on Ellian’s skull with a resounding crack. Ellian crumpled without a sound. Jigen stepped over him and cast a quick glance down the hall. There was no one in sight. So either Ellian hadn’t had a chance to contact any backup yet, or he’d sent them all elsewhere -- after Zenigata, probably. Jigen dashed back into the security booth and looked around. He needed something to keep Ellian here in case he woke up. In the end, he found some duct tape and trussed Ellian up, with a couple of strips across his mouth.

Then he checked the security cameras. The truck was still in the parking garage and he could see Zenigata standing beside it, pacing restlessly back and forth. Waiting on him, no doubt. Jigen shook his head. The man was nothing if not dependable, sometimes obliviously so.

Jigen made a quick scan of the other screens. 

“Damn it!” he growled. 

There was a whole squad of men, armed and ready, heading for the parking garage. 

Jigen grabbed his magnum, feeling the reassuring steel in his fingers. 

Not if he could help it. 


	6. Chapter Six

Jigen hurried through the halls of the Penitentiary, gun drawn. He wasn’t even trying to hide it at this point, but so far he hadn’t run into anyone. And he wouldn’t, if what he’d seen on the cameras was accurate until just...about...now.

Jigen rounded a corner and saw the backs of a squad of officers in front of him. He didn’t waste a second. He pulled the tranquilizer out of his pocket and nailed three of the six men before anybody even got it into their heads to turn around. 

The fourth man turned around as Jigen shot, and the dart went wide, striking the wall instead. And that’s when the real bullets flew. Jigen ducked back around the corner as two bullets hissed passed where his face had been a moment ago. They both thudded harmlessly into the wall at the end of the hall. So, his cover was well and truly blown. 

He heard one of the men yelling into a radio for backup. 

Jigen took a deep breath, placed the voice, then whipped around the corner and let off three shots. He was back behind the wall before his shots hit, but he heard the startled shouts of at least two men. He risked a glance around the edge of the wall. 

The man with the radio was crumpled on the ground with the first three squad members. The last two officers were still standing, or, more accurately, running down the hall. Jigen cursed. He’d missed. Damn this flimsy little tranquilizer. It didn’t have the power or the dialed-down accuracy of his magnum. 

Zenigata had been adamant that he not kill anybody. 

Jigen sighed and tossed the tranquilizer aside, drawing his magnum from its familiar position on his belt. He could still shoot to maim, right? 

The officers disappeared around the far corner and Jigen took a deep breath. They were in a more defensible position now. They could be lying in wait for him around the corner, or using the corner as a shield to get away. But whatever they were doing, they were being quiet about it.

Jigen decided to take a cautious route down the hall. He didn’t have a bullet-proof vest like the officers did. Which meant he’d just have to shoot first. And he’d have to aim for smaller targets because unless he was really close, about all he’d accomplish with a body hit was a bruise and temporary loss of breath. Jigen walked silently past the unconscious guards on the floor. Man, this entire precinct was going to be out of commission come morning. Jigen smirked. He wondered what Elly’s superiors would say about that. 

Jigen got about halfway down the hall before he heard the scuff in front of him. A footstep -- smooth shoe against industrial flooring. He brought his magnum up, already moving to one side. 

One of the officers appeared around the corner a second later. 

He snapped off a shot at the same time Jigen did.

Jigen’s bullet smacked home, sending the officer’s gun sprawling, leaving him clutching his right hand. The way this was going, there were going to be a lot of left-handed gunmen in the force soon. The officer’s bullet went wide, singing down the hall. 

But it was the second bullet Jigen wasn’t ready for. The second officer ducked out from the corner as soon as the first officer’s gun went off and fired a shot of his own. And no matter how fast Jigen was, he wasn’t that fast. The fact that he kept moving was probably the only thing that saved his life. Instead of pounding into his chest, the bullet slammed home in Jigen’s right arm. Jigen cursed and clutched at his arm, but his long years of training kicked in and he shot back. 

The second officer went down with a surprised look on his face and a bullet between his eyes. Jigen cursed again as he felt hot blood pool between his fingers. He’d intended to follow Zenigata’s no-kill order, but instinct took over and when someone shot at you to kill, you shot back the same way. 

The first officer stared at Jigen for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected him to go for the kill. And he probably hadn’t. Even if his cover was blown, the only experience this officer had with him was that of an (admittedly, false) ICPO officer. Which meant that he had a skewed view of how fair Jigen would play. 

“You wanna try something, too?” Jigen asked, voice tight with pain. “You can join your buddy down there.” He gestured loosely with the magnum. 

The first officer slowly shook his head and raised his hands. “Please don’t shoot,” he said quietly.

Jigen sighed, feeling exhaustion and pain mix like a heady drink and sneak up on him. “I won’t. If you listen very carefully.” 

The officer nodded. 

“On your knees. Hands up. And don’t try anything funny.” 

The officer nodded again, casting a look back at his fallen comrade. He knelt, slowly, keeping his hands in the air. Jigen walked up to him, magnum still trained on him and snagged the handcuffs from the officer’s belt.

“Wrists together.”

The officer complied. Jigen handcuffed him and took his radio, tossing it down the hall before putting a bullet in it. Not that the man couldn’t get himself another radio off any number of his fallen friends, but the message was clear. Don’t try to get help. Granted, Jigen wasn’t sure how much help was left in the building at this hour. He figured there was a lighter crew in the prison at this hour and they had to have used up most of their extra officers chasing Zenigata and Jigen already. 

“It’s not personal.” Jigen grabbed both the officers' guns from the floor. “Sorry.” 

The officer glared at him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Jigen felt guilt stab at him. He really hadn’t meant to kill, but instinct was hard to put down, especially the instinct to stay alive and Jigen was pretty sure he had more than his fair share of that. He pocketed the extra guns and headed down the hall, already loosening his tie for a makeshift bandage. 

Now all he had to do was get to Zenigata and get the hell out of here.

Zenigata paced beside the truck, staring at his watch for the umpteenth time. Jigen should’ve been here by now. Then again, Ellian shouldn’t have been running loose in the building. It had only been about five minutes since Ellian disappeared, but Zenigata knew that five minutes was more than enough time to ruin their entire plan. So far, no one had burst into the parking garage to try and stop him, but Zenigata was pretty sure it was only a matter of time.

He sighed and turned to pace again when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up. His back stiffened, every nerve on edge. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew, but he knew he wasn’t alone. It took all of his discipline to keep pacing, keep moving, to not look over his shoulder and give himself away. As long as his opponent thought he was oblivious, he’d be more likely to overextend himself and give Zenigata a better chance to prepare a retaliation. Zenigata paused to glance at his watch again. He heard a footstep hit concrete a moment after his stopped. Zenigata ducked his head to hide a smirk. So, his adversary wasn’t on the top of his game -- they were trying to sneak up on him, but they hadn’t been expecting him to stop. Zenigata sighed and looked back at the tunnel doorway, pushing his hat up and putting one hand on his hip as he did so -- closer to his gun. Because despite what he told Jigen, he’d come prepared too. He caught a flash of movement reflected in the windows on the tunnel doors. But it was in the wrong place for the footstep he’d heard. So, he was facing at least two opponents. 

He’d closed the doors to the back of the truck already, so he wasn’t too worried about Lupin. The truck was armored. Even if bullets flew, the thief wasn’t in mortal danger. But if there were men out here in the garage, that meant Jigen was compromised inside. Zenigata was torn. To make this whole plan worth it, he needed to get out of here with Lupin -- alive. But he didn’t want to leave Jigen to his fate. Ellian was angry, excitable, and paranoid. All of that added up to an itchy trigger finger. Jigen was good. But even good didn’t always beat insane. 

Zenigata glanced at the truck, then at the tunnel doors again, indecisive. 

It was the bullet that made the decision for him. A gunshot echoed out in the garage and Zenigata instinctively dropped to the floor. A bullet pounded into the side of the truck a millisecond later, ricocheting off the heavy metal and clanking harmlessly into the concrete. Zenigata rolled under the truck and slid behind one of the tires, curling into a smaller target while he surveyed the garage. 

The shot had come from somewhere to his left, but if the gunman knew anything about anything, he wouldn’t shoot from the same place twice. 

Zenigata cursed under his breath. He needed to get out of here. And he needed to do it now. Where the hell was Jigen? And why didn’t they think to bring radios on this mission?

_Because it wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be simple. In and out and no more than ten minutes out of each other’s sight._

Zenigata snorted. He should’ve expected the plan to go awry. After all, nothing with Lupin involved ever seemed to go the way it was supposed to. 

More footsteps sounded in the garage and Zenigata twisted around to see two pairs of black boots approaching the side of the truck. 

_Dammit!_

He heard a scuff on the other side and turned his head to see another set of boots coming from the front of the truck. From what he could see, all police. There was no way he was going to get out of this one. They knew where he was. His cover was obviously blown. If the bullet from earlier was any indication, they weren’t under any orders to preserve his life. Knowing Ellian, Zenigata wasn’t surprised. The boy probably had no qualms about shooting Jigen and Zenigata and officially claiming they were caught in the crossfire. While he might get reprimanded for letting the two chief suspects expire before anyone could ask questions, it wasn’t something he’d lose his job over. They’d call it a day, he’d probably get accolades for taking down Jigen and everyone would shake their heads over Zenigata while ICPO declared that they knew he’d been going down a dark path lately, that there was something up, and that they’d never sanctioned any of his activity where Lupin III was involved. 

Zenigata set his mouth in a grim line. That was not how Inspector Zenigata of ICPO was going out. And _especially_ not at the hands of one smarmy Ellian Charpentier. 

Zenigata took a deep breath. The boots were all closer. In a moment, they’d be close enough to look under the truck and then he was done for. He drew his gun and closed his eyes, whispering a quick prayer. 

And that was when the shadow struck. 

Zenigata heard the slap of what almost sounded like a bare foot on concrete and the whisper of steel on leather, a sound he’d hear a thousand times before. There was the slash of a sword through air, moving almost faster than humanly possible and the surprised shouts of the officers before the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. Zenigata opened his eyes and peered out from behind the tire. The man in front of the truck was now sprawled on his back, unconscious, he guessed, since there wasn’t a pool of blood anywhere. 

He heard two more grunts, two more thumps and he turned toward the side of the truck just in time to see a pair of sandaled feet dance out of the way of the other two policemen as they fell to the ground. A pause. 

“You better get out of here, Pops. There will be more where they came from.” 

Zenigata froze. He knew that voice. But...those were jeans he saw under the truck…?

“Goemon?” he asked, incredulous. 

He heard a snort and then the _schlick_ of a sword sliding home in its sheath. “Seriously, Pops, there are more coming. You’d better get out from under the truck. I’m going to hold ‘em off, but we won’t do much good if you don’t get Lupin out of here.” 

Zenigata’s mouth flopped open for a few seconds before he remembered how to use it. He scrambled out from under the truck just in time to see a dark head disappear around the edge of the parking garage, accompanied by the silver flash of a katana. Gunfire popped and crackled around the corner. 

Was that actually Goemon? How had the samurai known where to find him? And how did he get here unnoticed? And where was his traditional Japanese clothing?

Zenigata quickly checked the three officers lying in the garage. They were all alive, but unconscious, and their guns were lying on the ground beside them. Zenigata collected their weapons and slid the one man away from the front of the truck. 

And then he made up his mind. 

Goemon was right. If he didn’t get out of here with Lupin all in one piece, then the plan was dead and so was Lupin. Zenigata cast a glance back at the tunnel doors, as if maybe he’d see Jigen burst through them, but there was still nothing. He’d have to trust that the gunman could take care of himself. 

Zenigata jumped up into the truck. He tossed the confiscated guns on the seat beside him, then checked the window between the cab and the back. Lupin was still there, hunched against the wall, looking miserable and cold. 

More gunfire chattered and a bullet whizzed past the side mirror. Zenigata glanced in the rearview -- there were a couple of men behind the truck. Which meant either they’d beaten Goemon or there were just more than he could face at once. Zenigata turned the key and rammed the truck into gear. He had a clear shot out of the front gate, but he was pretty sure they weren’t going to open it for him. Well, this truck was armored for a reason. 

He grit his teeth and floored it. 

Behind him, he didn’t see the silver flash as the last of the policemen fell. 

Jigen made it to the transport tunnel without meeting anyone else. Maybe it was luck. Maybe there wasn’t anyone left to meet. He could just see the truck through the windows on the doors, still sitting at the end of the tunnel. He felt something heavy lift from his stomach. Zenigata was still here. Maybe they still had a chance at this. 

He saw the truck shudder to life. Zenigata was about to leave without him! Jigen sprinted down the hall and hit the doors at the end. Dammit, they were locked! He fumbled with the lock for a few seconds, pain and urgency making his hands clumsy. The truck shot out of the garage as a couple of bullets flew after it. 

Jigen cursed and looked back down at the locking mechanism, just as his trembling fingers managed to pop it open. He burst through the doors just in time to see the truck crash through the prison’s front gate and disappear. 

“Dammit!” Jigen shouted. Then he shut his mouth. He was advertising himself more blatantly than a sitting duck. He gripped his magnum and shrank back against a nearby pillar, but no shots rang out. In fact, everyone in the garage was laid out flat on the floor. Jigen stepped slowly out from behind the pillar. There were five men on the floor, all in police uniform and all unconscious. Had Zenigata taken them all out? 

But he was in the truck right? And someone shot at the truck as it left. So, then...who? Jigen’s eyes immediately focused on the shadows in the garage -- pillars, parked cars, rafters, anywhere a person might hide. But there was nothing. No telltale breath or twitch, no hand or arm sticking out of cover. 

Just then someone tapped Jigen on the shoulder. 

Jigen exploded. 

He spun, gun automatically coming up, snapping off a shot at the shadow looming up behind him. 

The shadow didn’t even flinch. It already had a sword in place and Jigen’s bullet ricocheted off the blade, thudding into the concrete wall to his left. 

“That was sloppy," it said. 

Jigen did a double take. “Goemon?” 

The shadow stepped into the light. 

Jigen felt relief flood him even as a laugh burst out of him. 

It was indeed Goemon. Looking about as out-of-place as Jigen without a beard. For the first time that Jigen could remember, Goemon wasn’t wearing his hakama and kimono. Instead, he wore a faded pair of bootcut jeans and a button up shirt printed with horses? dogs? Jigen couldn’t tell in the dim garage lights. He wore an olive green military-style jacket to ward off the cold, but he was wearing canvas flip flops. His hair wasn’t any different, but without his samurai ensemble, it looked more like something from the 70’s than ancient Japan. There was a white cast on Goemon’s left arm, from hand to elbow judging by the way his sleeve bulked out and his arm bent. So, he _had_ broken something that night. But the craziest thing about the whole ensemble was that Goemon somehow managed to pull it all off like some sort of dashing movie hero with a unique sense of style. Jigen was almost jealous.

Goemon scowled. “You look ridiculous, too,” he said. 

Jigen sobered. “Heh, well, I had to make it complete. Shame though. That beard was…” Jigen stopped and tapped his foot for a second, counting on his fingers. “I dunno, something like thirty years running.” 

Goemon pulled a face like he found that faintly disgusting. Then his gaze flicked to the bloody tie wrapped around Jigen’s arm. “You’re injured.” 

Jigen grimaced. “It’s nothing." He waved it away. "What I want to know is where you got these digs.” Jigen walked a circle around Goemon to better appreciate his outfit. Damn, the clothes even fit him like they were tailored for him. 

Goemon shrugged. “Second-hand shop.” 

Jigen raised an eyebrow. He was even more impressed now. “You should dress like this more often.” 

“I hate it. Your western clothes are rough and constricting. I will be glad when I can get mine back.” 

Jigen rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. But if tonight is any indication, we can't show up in the public eye anytime soon.” 

“Zenigata?” Goemon asked. 

“You saw him?” 

Goemon nodded. “In the truck with Lupin.” 

Jigen sighed in relief. “Thank god.” 

“Why are you not with them?” 

Jigen sighed and pushed his hat back on his head. “I was supposed to be. But I had to deal with Elly.” 

"Elly?"

"Ellian Carpentier. The bastard that headed the museum bust." 

"Oh. And Zenigata was helping you?”

“Well, more like I was helping him, but yeah.” 

Goemon sighed like he was a father dealing with a particularly errant child and his patience was running out. 

“I know, I know.” Jigen held up his hands placatingly. “I was a little short on options.” 

Goemon gave him a sideways glance. 

“It’s not exactly like I could call you up and stage a rescue here, buddy,” Jigen growled. 

Goemon sighed and pulled a black cell phone out of his pocket. He held it like it was a dead animal, then he tossed it into the air and slashed it into pieces with Zantetsuken. “No, but that did not stop me from coming. I keep telling Lupin, I do not need technology. I have my ways.” 

“Oh, really?” Jigen crossed his arms. “So, how _did_ you find out where Lupin was?” 

Goemon looked away and mumbled something under his breath. 

Jigen leaned forward and cupped a hand around his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What’d you say, Goemon?” 

Goemon fastidiously sheathed Zantetsuken, straightened his jacket, and brushed a stray piece of hair out of his eyes before blushing furiously and muttering, “TV.”

Jigen laughed again. He could just picture Goemon holed up in a hotel somewhere, watching soap operas or romance flicks -- something he loudly denounced whenever Jigen and Lupin did it. Jigen was pretty sure the samurai had a secret habit of watching TV at night after he and Lupin had gone to bed. He just didn’t have definitive proof.

He slung an arm around Goemon’s shoulders. “I’m not questioning your methods, man. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Goemon stoically looked straight ahead and gave Jigen a stiff nod. 

Jigen sighed. “Alright, so you saw the news, I saw the papers and Pops called me, but how’d you know to show up tonight?” 

Goemon gave Jigen a relieved smile. “That was just good luck. I came straight here as soon as I saw the news. You’re lucky I heard you speak before I jumped you. I nearly didn’t recognize you.” 

“I’m starting to think this disguise would fool my own mother,” Jigen muttered, stroking his chin. “I should have thought of this years ago.” 

“Psh,” Goemon snorted. “It doesn’t suit you.” 

“Tell me about it.”

“You do look younger without the beard though.” Goemon tilted his head to one side to study Jigen.

Jigen rolled his eyes. 

Just then, they heard a door open at the other end of the parking garage. Footsteps, several pairs, fanned out into the garage. “Sounds like they found Elly. That’s our cue to make tracks,” Jigen whispered. “You got a car?” 

Goemon blushed again. “Actually, yes.” 

Jigen’s jaw dropped and he forgot to pick it back up. Goemon rolled his eyes, grabbed Jigen by the lapels, and pulled him out of the parking garage just as a flashlight beam lit the spot where they’d been standing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even going to lie, I'm watching Supernatural right now, and Goemon's new appearance is definitely influenced by early Sam Winchester...and y'all, I've had Goemon's intro scene written for a while. Waiting to post it has been the HARDEST thing...especially after Jigen's reveal.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a little late, but I still managed to get it in on Monday! :D  
> The guys might be a little OOC, but this story does take place about ten years after the show, so they've all grown/matured/changed ;) And don’t get me wrong, I love Lupin, but Goemon and Jigen are my favorite team and they get a whole chapter to themselves this time. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

“Oh, hell no! I am **not** getting in that thing with you behind the wheel!” 

“Why not?” Goemon asked. The stark innocence on his face was terrifying.

“Because you’ve never driven a car in your life!"

"I got it here, didn't I?"

Jigen scowled. He had a point. "You don’t even have a license!” 

“Like you and Lupin do?” 

Jigen grumbled something under his breath. He had a license. It was just expired. And for somewhere in the States. 

“Are you sure you’re Goemon Ishikawa?” Jigen asked, squinting over at Goemon. They were standing in the woods outside the prison where Goemon had stashed a sleek silver Camero in the bushes. By the looks of it, the car was brand new and somehow the samurai had managed to get her in the woods without a scratch on her -- at least, not that Jigen could see by the flickering flame of his lighter. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Goemon pulled at the strap across his chest where he’d slung Zantetsuken, concealed in a long black tube like artists sometimes carried canvases in. “Jigen, you know it has to be me. No one else could have pulled that trick back in the parking garage.” 

Jigen stared across the car at his friend. “I mean, you’re right, but...nothing else about you makes sense.” 

Goemon flashed him a smile. “I am a man of many talents. Or did you think Lupin was the only one good at hiding his true self?” 

“I’ve just…” Jigen shrugged. “Never seen you do it before, I guess.” 

“I have never had a need to.” 

Now that Jigen thought about it, Goemon was right. As the youngest and last member to join the gang, Goemon had come along at a time where Jigen and Lupin had the gig mostly figured out. Sure, Goemon had been in tough spots before, but nothing where they had to completely erase their social fingerprints like this. This was all supposed to be in their past. Back when Lupin was a gung-ho thief and Jigen was an itchy trigger finger. Back when they slipped up and made mistakes and lost their haul a little more often than they got away with it. When he thought back on it, he’d never seen Goemon pull a trick like this because he’d never seen Goemon in this position before. 

This added layers of intrigue to the samurai that Jigen didn’t even know existed. If he could hide himself this completely, then how much of his samurai ensemble was an act? 

But no, Goemon was tense, unnatural right now. Much as he was trying to play it cool, Jigen could tell. There was something about the way he moved, the tilt of his shoulders, that belied the facade. Goemon might be playing the part, but he wasn’t comfortable in it. He wasn’t a chameleon like Lupin who shed skins like people shed clothes at the end of the day. He could wear a different skin, but he couldn’t change who he was fundamentally. And underneath that second-hand outfit, he was still the awkward, stoic samurai that Jigen relied on. 

He realized that Goemon was standing by the car staring at him, as if he’d said something and was waiting on an answer. 

Jigen scrubbed a hand over his face. “You say something?” 

“I asked you if you have a place.”

“A place?” 

“Yeah. You know. A bed?” 

“Oh. Right.” Jigen paused. “Wait. We can’t sleep. We’ve got to get Lupin back!” 

“And we will, but I can’t do it with you like this.” 

“Like what?” Jigen demanded. 

“Jigen, you’re losing a lot of blood,” Goemon said patiently. 

Jigen frowned and looked down at his arm like he was surprised to find it bloody. It didn’t even hurt much. Deep down, he knew that meant that his body was working overtime to convince his brain he was fine, but on the surface, he wanted to believe it and chase after Lupin.

Goemon sighed. “Jigen, I get it. I don’t trust Pops anymore than you do, but at least with Pops, we know Lupin is safe. If you don’t let me look at that arm, you are going to end up face-first in the dirt. Your aim is already off.” 

“It is not!” Jigen protested. 

Goemon gave him a look. An entirely too bright-eyed, patient, and self-assured look. Jigen sighed. Since when did Goemon become the team mother-hen? Wasn’t that supposed to be his job? Besides, the samurai was nearly fifteen years younger -- Jigen was supposed to be telling him what to do, not the other way around. 

“We can track Zenigata in the morning,” Goemon said. 

“But--” Jigen began a token protest. 

Goemon held up a hand to cut him off, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a transmitter. The light on the top was flashing green. 

“You devil.” 

Goemon smiled. 

“You put a tracker on the truck.” 

Goemon nodded. 

“Well, it’s a good thing one of us was thinking ahead.”

“Yes. Now get in the car, Jigen, and let’s find a bed. Because I for one, would appreciate a good night’s sleep.” Goemon opened the driver’s side door and dropped into the car. 

Jigen rolled his eyes and stared up at the stars again. He was getting entirely too old for this. 

But he didn’t protest as he dropped into the passenger’s seat.

“Jigen.” 

Someone was shaking him. 

“Jigen, wake up.” 

Jigen dragged himself back to consciousness with a grumble. Where the hell was he? It was dark and he was sitting in a chair? No, a car. 

“Damn it!” Jigen exclaimed as he bolted upright, nearly smacking his head on the low ceiling. He looked over at the open car door and Goemon standing framed by the halo of a dusty streetlight. 

The samurai looked as non-plussed as ever, even if he was still in his strange second-hand get-up. 

Jigen scrubbed a hand over his face, the absence of his beard further anchoring him in reality. So, it wasn’t all a bad dream. The last 24 hours really had happened. 

“Where are we?” he demanded. 

“Hotel,” Goemon said. 

“You checked us into a hotel? We’re supposed to be _hiding_ from society, Goemon, not mingling with it.” 

“Relax, I gave aliases at the front desk.” 

Jigen crossed his arms and let his hat slouch further over his face, giving Goemon his darkest scowl. 

“Besides, we’re about two hours outside of Marseilles. I’m not stupid, Jigen. And I doubt Charpentier has his force back in order yet after what we pulled.” 

“Freaking hell, Goemon! You drove for _two hours_?” 

“You fell asleep in the first fifteen minutes,” Goemon said dryly. 

Jigen’s mouth moved, as if he were trying to come up with a come back, but no words came out. 

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Goemon asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And not a scratch on her, Jigen. You can check the car if you want.” 

Jigen humphed. “How did you even manage it?” he finally asked. “I mean, you’ve never driven before. Like ever.” 

“Well, at some point, you were in the same boat, were you not?” 

Jigen grumbled something that might have been assent. 

“And did you crash the first car you drove?” Goemon asked. 

“Not immediately.” 

“Case in point.”

“I think you missed the point there, buddy. I _did_ crash the first car I drove.” 

“But not immediately.” 

Jigen grunted. 

Goemon sighed. “Look, I have watched you and Lupin drive many times. It is not that difficult. Besides, no one was chasing us, so I didn’t have to do anything more complicated than make a left turn. If it makes you feel better, you can drive later when we track Zenigata, who, by the way, we’re about two hours closer to.” 

Jigen lifted his hat so he could properly give Goemon a glare. 

“You’re welcome,” Goemon said with a smile. “Now, come inside and let me see to that arm.” 

Jigen grumbled some more, but he got out of the car and followed Goemon into the hotel. The place wasn’t shabby, but it wasn’t high-class either, mediocre enough to go unnoticed, nice enough to have amenities. Jigen sighed. Goemon had learned a lot while hanging with him and Lupin and while he still wasn’t the most technologically or socially up-to-date of the three of them, he was a capable thief in his own right with a good head on his shoulders. Jigen should probably start giving him credit for more than just being a sword. 

Goemon led Jigen up to the third floor and unlocked the fourth door on the right -- number 307 -- with a plastic keycard. The door gave a little beep, the light on the handle turned green, and Goemon slipped inside, Jigen right behind him. 

The room was small, but well-kept, with two full beds, a TV, a small desk, a dresser and a mini-fridge. Jigen scowled at the fridge -- it was probably empty. Despite himself, a yawn caught him off-guard and he took a seat on one of the beds. 

Goemon hardly gave him a chance to get comfortable before he was at his side, pulling him off the bed. 

“Not yet,” he said. “I don’t want to get blood all over the sheets.” 

Jigen grumbled, but he moved to the desk chair that Goemon pulled out. Now that Goemon mentioned it, he could feel the ache in his arm, bone-deep, the hot sting of the bullet, the sharp burn that came with a gunshot wound. He straddled the chair and propped his arms on the back, so he wouldn’t have to hold his injured arm up by himself. Goemon walked over to the fridge and opened it, returning with a bottle of whiskey. It wasn’t actually cold, so either the fridge wasn’t working, or the bottle hadn’t been sitting there long. But that meant --

“How long have we been here?” Jigen asked. 

Goemon arched a questioning eyebrow. 

“At the hotel.” 

“Twenty minutes.” Goemon waggled a hand in the air. “Give or take. Why?”

Enough time for Goemon to find and secure his favorite drink. “You bastard,” Jigen grumbled, but there wasn’t any ire in it.

Goemon chuckled and Jigen uncapped the whiskey and took a swig as Goemon laid a first aid kit on the desk and pulled out supplies. Jigen leaned against the back of the chair and sipped his whiskey while the samurai worked. They’d all become decent field surgeons over the years, patching each other up when they got shot, or wrecked a car, or ended up on the losing end of a fistfight. It was just part of the job. You couldn’t drag yourself to the nearest hospital or doctor if you were being pursued by Zenigata or some other arm of the law, so you learned to do stuff like remove bullets and set broken bones and stitch cuts yourself. 

After a couple of minutes, Goemon declared himself ready. He helped Jigen out of his jacket and shirt. Jigen stubbornly kept his hat and his bottle of whiskey. Goemon pulled a face, but didn’t complain. Then he went to work. 

Jigen hissed as he felt the samurai’s fingers probe his wound. Gentle, at first, but more urgent as he assessed the damage and cleaned the wound. 

“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me how you met Lupin,” Goemon said casually as he pulled a pair of tweezers out of the medical kit. 

Jigen hissed as he felt pain flare in his arm. “You’re asking me that _now?_ ” he gasped. 

“Good a time as any.” Goemon’s voice was tight with concentration. “It’ll keep your mind off...this.” 

Jigen growled as he felt cold metal probe his flesh. He clenched the neck of the whiskey bottle so hard he thought he might crack it. But then the metal retreated and so did the pain -- temporarily. Jigen took a healthy swig of whiskey. Goemon waited until he was done before he started again. 

“This bullet is in deep, Jigen.” 

Jigen took a deep breath through his nose as the cold sensation of metal on flesh returned. “They were halfway decent shots,” he managed through clenched teeth. 

Goemon shook his head but he didn’t answer. Instead, he gave a sharp twist of the tweezers and Jigen screamed out of pure reflex before he got control of himself. He heard the sharp _plink_ of metal hitting the table and then Goemon pressed a white hotel towel against his arm. Jigen dropped his head onto his good arm and shut his eyes. 

“It’s out,” Goemon declared.

“I met him in a bar,” Jigen finally said, voice not quite steady. He hated it, but it was understandable. No matter how tough you were, getting a freaking bullet dug out of your arm _hurt._ No matter how precise or accurate your surgeon was. 

“Huh?” Goemon sounded a little surprised. 

“Lupin. I met him in a bar.” 

“Oh. Right. Go on.” 

“I nearly killed the cocky little shit on the spot.” 

Goemon snorted as he put pressure on Jigen’s arm. Jigen felt a little light-headed and took a couple of deep breaths. He tried to convince himself that it was the pain making his head swim and not the loss of blood, but he wasn’t entirely sure anymore. 

“He try to rob you?” 

Jigen laughed despite the situation. “No. He offered me a drink.” 

“And you tried to kill him for it?” Goemon sounded incredulous. “Giving you a drink usually makes you less likely to kill things.” Goemon tapped the bottle in Jigen’s hand for emphasis. 

“Ha. Yes. Usually, it does. But I was…” Jigen took another deep breath. “It was shortly after Jaina.” 

“Hm.” Goemon made a little noise of acknowledgement. 

“And he tried to give me a bottle of Cutty Sark.” 

Goemon made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Jigen opened his eyes and raised his head just enough to glare at the samurai. Goemon stared right back at him, straight-faced, but there was that light in his eyes that Jigen had come to realize meant he was laughing internally, even though there wasn’t the slightest hint of a smile on his face. 

Goemon lifted the towel from Jigen’s arm. “I think the worst of the bleeding has stopped. You’re going to need a few stitches.”

“Stitch away.” Jigen tried to sound nonchalant, but it didn’t quite work. 

Goemon didn’t call him out on it. 

“So, what did Lupin want from you?” Goemon asked as he threaded his needle.

“What?” 

“Back then, what did he want? When he approached you. You know Lupin never approaches anybody unless they’ve got something he wants.” 

“You make him sound like a selfish bastard.” 

“He is.”

Jigen gave Goemon a sidelong glance, then he shrugged and immediately regretted it, wincing. He settled in the chair again. “You’re right. He is.” 

“And yet, we still go to the ends of the earth for him,” Goemon said with a smirk. 

“Heh. Yeah.” 

Goemon tied off a knot at the end of the thread. “You ready?” 

“Hit me.” 

Goemon tilted his head, eyebrows up in slight confusion, that expression he got when he took you a bit more literally than you intended, then he shrugged and stuck Jigen with the needle. 

“Arrghhhgg.” Jigen hissed something unintelligible through his teeth. The pull of the thread in his arm wasn’t unfamiliar, but that didn’t mean he liked it. 

“You said you were ready.” Goemon paused. 

“I know,” Jigen snarled. 

Goemon started stitching again. 

After a few minutes, Jigen got enough breath back to speak. “He wanted...a partner. In the bar. When he came to my table with that bottle of whiskey and two -- _dammit, Goemon!_ \-- glasses and that maniacal light he gets in his eyes when he’s onto a new heist.” 

Goemon nodded, tongue sticking slightly between his teeth as he concentrated on sewing. 

“And I just about pulled my gun on him right there, because I thought he was a hitman hired by Jaina for a little revenge. God, Goemon, that _hurts!_ ” 

“Sorry.” 

Goemon paused again and Jigen took the chance to gulp down some more whiskey. It settled a bit warmer in his stomach this time, made his head a little fuzzier, the pain a little duller. He waved the bottle in a ‘go on’ gesture. And nearly threw-up as the nauseating pull of thread on flesh resumed. 

Jigen ducked his head onto his arm again and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“So, you didn’t shoot him, obviously,” Goemon prompted. 

“I slugged him instead.” Jigen’s voice came a little slurred now, muffled in the crook of his good arm, but he kept talking. “Decked him so hard I knocked a tooth loose and laid him out right there.” 

“And then discovered he wasn’t working for Jaina?” Goemon asked wryly. 

“Yeah. After I went through his pockets. I felt kinda bad for him, so I got the bartender to put him in a backroom, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave, somehow.” 

“Gravity,” Goemon said. 

“Huh?” 

“Gravity. Lupin is like --” Goemon paused for a second. “Like a planet, with gravitational pull. You get too close, you become part of his orbit, whether you intend to or not.” 

Jigen wondered if Goemon was talking about himself. “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed. 

He felt a couple of quick tugs and then heard the _snip_ of a pair of scissors and the tension on his arm relaxed. He looked up again.

“Almost done,” Goemon said. 

“After he woke up,” Jigen continued, “he launched right into his recruiting speech like nothing happened.” 

“And convinced you.” Goemon wrapped Jigen’s arm in bandages, tying it off with a neat little knot. 

“Yeah. He convinced me. He even convinced me to drink the bottle of Cutty Sark. Which I decked him for again. After I got over the hangover.” 

“And thus began your partnership.” 

“Hmph. Somehow.” 

Goemon didn’t answer as he picked up the medical supplies. He tossed the bloody towel in the trash. Jigen watched him in a sort of daze. He hurt. He was tired. They were down their best man. Their plan was trashed. And Zenigata had gotten away with Lupin. 

Jigen sighed. 

“Something wrong?” Goemon asked.

“You mean other than the fact that I got shot, Zenigata got Lupin, and Elly’s got our calling cards?” 

Goemon shrugged. 

“Nah. I’m good.” 

Goemon shook his head and shrugged out of his jacket. Then he flipped the room lights off, dimming the room to just a single bedside lamp. “Get some sleep, Jigen,” he said as he flopped into one of the beds. “We’ll set the world right in the morning.” 

“You mean later today?” 

“Whatever.” 

But Jigen didn’t immediately go to bed. Instead, he sat and sipped his whiskey, lulling himself into a pleasant state of muzziness. Goemon fell asleep almost instantly, snoring gently where he lay across the bed, his broken arm flung out beside him. Jigen snorted. The samurai had come a long way since joining him and Lupin. They'd shared some crazy adventures and more close calls than Jigen wanted to count. In fact, he trusted Goemon explicitly, just like Lupin.

Lupin. Jigen shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to believe it’d been almost twenty years since he’d met the flamboyant thief. Twenty years since they started robbing the rich with an impunity rarely replicated since the days of Robin Hood. 

Jigen smiled. 

Sometimes, Goemon’s optimism was infectious. Or maybe it was the whiskey. 

But somehow, he felt better about their chances.

Tomorrow -- later, whatever -- they’d go get Lupin and they’d make another twenty years of thieving and living like kings. 

Jigen took one last swig of the whiskey. 

Then he turned off the lamp and barely stumbled into the bed before he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cutty Sark reference is thanks to iSaphura, who mentioned that their headcannon Jigen now avoided Cutty Sark whiskey because of his misfortunes with Jaina Sark, a former lover with a penchant for revenge from my first Lupin story, Failed Shot! Jigen. I originally intended the reference to make it into Failed Shot, but it found it's way into this one instead. Thanks, iSaphura! ;)  
> I figured it'd be fun to see how Jigen met Lupin, so I expanded some on their backstory in this chapter. I'm also playing a little fast and loose with the characters' ages...


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little break there, readers. I took a little vacation and ended up getting a bit busier than I thought...so, here's chapter-the-next ;)

Being a part of Interpol had its advantages, sometimes.

One of those was a string of international safe-houses and emergency crash spots. Which meant that, technically, Zenigata was never far from a home for the night, a bed, an emergency stash of food, a weapon or two, and some basic medical supplies. 

Unfortunately, being part of Interpol also had its disadvantages. In the form of a certain gung-ho French police officer. 

Assuming Charpentier hadn’t been shot down by Jigen (and Zenigata had to assume he wasn’t, since he didn’t see anything like that happen) the young officer might be able to pull enough strings to find the nearest Interpol safehouse, if he wasn’t already tracking the truck. Zenigata was certain that even if Charpentier wasn’t tracking him, Goemon and Jigen were -- there was no way the samurai’s appearance in the parking garage was pure coincidence -- which meant either way he looked at it, he needed to ditch the truck. And find a place to stay that wasn’t part of Interpol or any sort of hotel chain. 

He figured that Charpentier was down for the count tonight, but Geomon and Jigen were wild cards. By this time, they would’ve found each other and, as long as Jigen wasn’t out of commission, they’d be after Lupin like bloodhounds. Which meant if he were being generous, he probably only had about an hour’s headstart. 

And that was where the internet had its advantages. After a couple of quick searches and a few phone calls, Zenigata found a tiny cottage for rent off the beaten path, out of sight and out of mind. A weekend getaway, the vacation site advertised. 

Well, he certainly needed to get away. 

He’d been absolutely astounded that anybody had answered his phone call at this hour, much less agreed to rent him the little cottage on a spur of the moment basis, but, the world was full of kooky characters and Zenigata thanked his lucky stars that he found one of them.

His second phone call was to secure a cab that would take him and Lupin the rest of the way to the cottage, because he certainly wasn’t taking the incriminating truck to his hiding spot. 

And now, all he had to do was uncuff Lupin, get him into the taxi and to the cottage without letting him slip away, and then nurse the thief back to health. 

There was no sleep in his immediate future. 

Zenigata sighed and put his head on the steering wheel for a second. Then he sat up, rubbed his eyes, shook himself, and hopped out of the truck. He had to move quickly if he wanted to help Lupin and stay ahead of the wolves. 

Lupin was asleep when Zenigata opened the truck’s back door, slumped forward, only held in place by the handcuffs attached to the wall. He was snoring, but he revived quickly enough when Zenigata shook him awake. 

Lupin blinked owlishly, as if confused, before rousing himself with a shake. “Aw, Pops,” he whispered. “Is it morning already?” 

“Technically, yes,” Zenigata answered. 

Lupin groaned. “Five more minutes.” 

“No can do.” Zenigata reached behind Lupin and detached the cuffs from the wall. Lupin nearly overbalanced, but Zenigata caught him by the back of his jacket, holding the thief upright until Lupin steadied himself.

“Where are we?” Lupin asked.

“Side of the road somewhere in France.”

Lupin raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t prison,” he said, a half-grin on his face. 

“No, no it’s not.” 

“Then, where are we…?” Lupin trailed off. 

“Somewhere you can sleep,” Zenigata said gruffly.

Lupin looked immensely relieved at the proposition. Perhaps a little too relieved. Once again, Zenigata was struck by how tired the thief looked. Even though he was trying to put on his typical cocksure attitude, there was something lackluster about Lupin. Zenigata shook his head. Surely, it was nothing that some rest and a little medicine couldn’t cure. Knowing Lupin, he just hadn’t slowed down long enough to actually take care of himself. If Zenigata bought him enough time to rest, he should be fine. Right? Right.

“C’mon, up you go.” Zenigata hauled Lupin to his feet, which triggered a coughing fit that had Lupin doubled up and wheezing for breath. Zenigata awkwardly patted his back as the thief got his breath back. 

“Did Charpentier ever get a doctor down to see you?” Zenigata asked as Lupin straightened up. 

Lupin looked over at him for a moment, then he smirked. “Not a real one.” 

Zenigata felt anger heat his chest. Anger at the cocky little officer who was willing to spend a man’s life on a stupid, arrogant assumption. Then he sighed. Best not to focus on Charpentier right now. There were ways to get back at the bastard. Ways that he wouldn’t even think of, being as new to the force as he was. Serving as an officer for nigh on forty years did come with its fair share of devious knowledge if one chose to use it. That wasn’t usually up Zenigata’s alley, but he figured if they made it out of this, Ellian Charpentier deserved a very special lesson or two. 

But first things first, he couldn’t take Lupin into a taxi handcuffed. Especially if he wanted to avoid awkward questions and an obvious trail. In fact, it would probably be best if he and Lupin looked as inconspicuous as possible. Zenigata laughed. Lupin III and Inspector Zenigata of Interpol, inconspicuous. That was like asking a zebra to hide its stripes. 

Lupin gave him a questioning glance. 

Zenigata shook his head and reached behind Lupin for the handcuffs. This night was just getting crazier by the second. Here he was, about to unhandcuff Lupin III, world famous thief, and all over a stuffy nose. 

_ This is it, Zenigata, old boy. You’ve lost it. _

Zenigata’s hand hovered over the cuffs for a moment. This was the moment of truth. As soon as Lupin was uncuffed, Zenigata would be hard-pressed to stop him if he made a break for it. Hell, on a good day, he’d be hard-pressed to stop Lupin even  _ with  _ the cuffs on. Zenigata took a deep breath and released the cuffs.

Lupin shot Zenigata a surprised look over his shoulder as his arms relaxed by his sides. “You’re  _ unarresting  _ me?” He rubbed some feeling back into his wrists. “Never thought I’d see the day, Pops.” 

Zenigata grunted.

“You do care.” Lupin grinned and for a second there was his usual spark back. 

“Hmph. Maybe I just don’t want to see Ellian Charpentier win the day. Besides, I can’t put you in the taxi handcuffed. That’s too high profile.” 

Lupin laughed, and this time it didn’t end in a coughing fit, but it sounded wet in his chest. “Who would’ve thought. The great Inspector Zenigata rescuing Lupin III. Jigen’s going to be so mad at you, you know.” Lupin’s voice cracked on the last word, fading into almost nothing. Lupin cleared his throat. 

“You know Jigen was in on this with me.” 

“Was?” There was a hint of concern in Lupin’s voice. 

Zenigata looked away for a moment. “Yeah. We, uh, got split up, back there, at the Penitentiary. I couldn’t wait on him and get you out too. But don’t worry,” Zenigata jumped out of the back of the truck so he wouldn’t have to see Lupin’s accusatory expression. His knees complained a little more than he’d like. “Goemon showed up at the end, too. I’m sure he and Jigen are following us as we speak.”

“They’d better be.” It was meant to be a threat, but the yawn that caught Lupin at the end negated his threatening tone. “If they’re not --” Lupin shambled over to the back of the truck and flopped down, legs dangling over the edge. He seemed to deflate, folding inward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll think of something suitably vengeful when I can breathe again.” 

Lupin sighed and ducked his head. He tried to take a deep breath, but it sounded hollow and he suppressed a cough at the end of it. Then he raised his head again and sighed, swiping a sleeve across his nose. 

Zenigata watched Lupin closely. Lupin’s gaze flicked around the truck, the treeline, the road as he wiped his nose. Sizing up the situation, his chances, the odds. But then he slumped even further, head resting on his hands.

“You’re not going to try and make a break for it?” Zenigata asked. 

Lupin sighed and gestured to himself as if illustrating his point. “I wouldn’t get far. Even I know that. And even if I did get away, I’d be back at square one. Hunted, cold --” Lupin suddenly sneezed.

When he looked up, there was snot on his face. It was probably the most undignified thing Zenigata had ever seen. There was something almost funny about the scene -- almost. If it wasn’t obvious that Lupin was in one of the worst messes he’d ever been. Zenigata pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Lupin. Lupin gave him a look of silent thanks and cleaned his face. 

When he was done, he sighed. “See what I mean?” 

Zenigata nodded. This was exactly why he had to get Lupin away from Charpentier. Because the young officer cared nothing about whether Lupin lived or died -- only about whether he earned fame off of the arrest. And while Zenigata would love nothing more than to see Lupin in custody, he didn’t want it to end like this. If - when - it did end, he wanted it to be fair. He wanted it to be a match of pure skill. He wanted to catch Lupin because he outwitted him, not because he walked up behind him and circumstantially whacked him over the head. 

Zenigata sighed. “You’re going to run yourself into the ground one of these days, Lupin,” he said. 

Lupin gave him the ghost of a smile. “Oh, I fully intend to, Pops. I fully intend to. Just wasn't expecting it to be today.” 

Zenigata winced at the frankness of Lupin’s reply, although, if you ran a life as full-speed as Lupin’s, the only way you could go was full-throttle. Zenigata shook his head. He didn’t have a reply for that one. Instead, he checked his phone. 

“Taxi’s almost here,” he said. “Here, put this on.” He shrugged out of his trenchcoat and handed it to Lupin. Although it wouldn’t completely hide the orange jumpsuit, it should cover enough of it to get them where they were going without too many questions asked. They’d look ridiculous, Zenigata was sure, but he could sacrifice a little reputation in exchange for making it to their hideout safely. 

Lupin slipped into the trenchcoat just as the headlights of a single car lit the end of the road. 

“But, sir, your hand --”

“I don’t care about my hand!” Ellian shouted, jerking away from the doctor who was trying to tend to his wound. It was a minor injury, really. The bullet had grazed him rather than piercing him, but it still stung like hell. Not to mention the throbbing goose egg on the side of his head where that idiot gunman pistol-whipped him. 

The doctor frowned. “Brigadier!" 

Ellian snapped to attention. It was habit when someone addressed you by your title. Especially someone who wasn't in your normal chain of command. 

The doctor continued, "You are in no shape to pursue anyone tonight, sir. You need rest. I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” 

“Criminals don’t wait on concussions,” Ellian growled. “I can’t afford to rest, do you understand me! Lupin III just made an escape -- at the hands of a damn ICPO officer. I can’t sit around and do nothing!” Ellian slammed his hand down on the examination table and immediately regretted it. He winced as pain lanced up his arm, setting off the sharp throb in his head again. He shut his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. 

When he opened his eyes again, the doctor was staring at him with crossed arms. “And you can't pursue criminals if you run yourself into the ground either. Are you quite finished?” he asked. 

Ellian sighed. It seemed there was no getting out of here until the doctor was finished with him. Ellian gave the doctor a glare, but he didn’t protest as the doctor went back to cleaning his hand. 

The doctor broke the silence. “I heard you lost a good man tonight. I'm sorry.” 

Ellian felt a pit in his stomach that had nothing to do with his injuries. He swallowed hard and nodded, his throat suddenly tight. That had, perhaps, been the lowest blow of the night. For the first time in his career, Ellian would have to call that family and deliver the news of their loss. Before, that had always been just above his paygrade, but being put in charge of his own squad meant he was now in charge of delivering both the good and the bad news. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Just like he wasn’t looking forward to the dressing down that he was sure awaited him as soon as the doctor finished tending to him. 

His eyes flicked to the door of the exam room. Command was waiting on the other side of that door, only held at bay by sheer medical protocol. Ellian suddenly found himself wishing that he did have a bullet in his hand or that he’d lost a few fingers or that he was still unconscious. At least then, he wouldn’t have to face Command. 

He hissed as the doctor poured antiseptic over his hand, bringing him back to reality with a sharp sting. He supposed he should be lucky. Lupin’s escape could have caused much more collateral damage. Ellian had heard stories of buildings razed, towns destroyed, ruins exploded and chaos galore. He supposed he should be thankful. It could have been worse. 

And he probably had Zenigata to thank for that. The man was nothing if not methodical and he had a heart. 

Ellian ground his teeth as the doctor bandaged his hand. 

He was going to find Lupin. 

He was going to find that cocky gunman or samurai, or whoever he was. 

He was going to find Zenigata. 

And he was going to enjoy watching the look on their faces when he was the one causing the collateral damage. 

The only one he needed alive was Lupin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned before, I'm not French, but according to some light Googling, Brigadier is somewhere in the middle of the French police chain-of-command. So, I'm guessing it might put Ellian in charge of a few men, but definitely not at the top of the chain.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I may or may not have caught up to myself in the writing of this story. Sorry for the slower updates, but I'm still here!

“Dammit!” Jigen kicked the tire of the transport truck and hopped away, nursing sore toes. 

Goemon shot him an annoyed look. 

“Dammit!” Jigen shouted again. He took a deep breath. 

“I heard you the first two times,” Goemon said before he could shout again. 

Jigen shut his mouth and glared at the samurai. 

“Shouting isn’t going to get Lupin back.” 

Jigen turned his collar up against the steady rain and muttered something unintelligible. Goemon was right. As usual. Jigen just didn’t want to admit it. But, then again, what had he been expecting? That they’d track the truck and find Zenigata and Lupin sitting by the side of the highway? That Zenigata would hand the thief over without a second glance and they’d all walk away happy? That wasn’t how life worked and Jigen knew it. But, damn, it would be nice if it did work that way for once. 

Goemon put a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “We’ll find him, Jigen.” 

“Yeah. I know.” Jigen kept his head down, hat low, covering his expression. 

“Let’s look around, see if we can figure out where they went. The rain will wash away tracks, so we don’t have much time.” 

Jigen stared up at the sky for a second, let the rain spatter his face. It was early. Way too early for any of this. Especially after the night they pulled. Goemon had shaken him awake around six a.m. and they’d bundled into the Camaro amidst a downpour - Jigen safely in the driver’s seat this time. Goemon’s GPS tracker led them here, to the side of a highway, where the truck loomed like some abandoned, empty, and cruel joke. At least the rain had slacked off. Now it was merely a heavy drizzle. Still enough to soak your jacket and run down the back of your neck. 

Jigen looked back at the truck. Right. Better get searching. Goemon was already investigating the grass and bushes on the side of the road, so Jigen headed to the truck itself. He pulled on the back door. To his surprise, it opened. Not to his surprise, it was empty. There was a pair of handcuffs lying on the floor, open. Jigen picked them up. Pops had let Lupin go? 

Jigen looked around the back of the truck. There were no signs of a struggle, not that there would be many in the metal truck, but at least there wasn’t any blood. The cuffs were unlocked, which meant Zenigata had purposefully taken them off. If Lupin had slipped them, they’d still be closed. It was the double-jointed thief’s favorite trick, to slip the cuffs and leave them locked, leave everyone wondering how he did it. It took time and concentration, of course, and it hurt like hell, but it looked impressive afterwards. Jigen snorted. Lupin was such a show off. 

But not this time. 

So what happened this time? 

He headed up to the front of the truck and opened the driver’s side door. Again, nothing of note. The cab was empty. Besides a few papers and a manual in the glove box, there was no indication that Zenigata or Lupin had even been in the truck. Jigen huffed out a breath and sat in the driver’s seat. 

Alright, if he were Pops and he was carting the world’s most-wanted thief across France in the middle of the night, what would he do? Under normal circumstances, he’d want to turn Lupin in. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. In fact, he was the one who’d busted Lupin out of prison. Lupin was sick. He was worried about the thief. He’d want to get him somewhere safe as soon as possible. He had access to Interpol safehouses, but too many people knew that. It wouldn’t be safe to take Lupin to one of them. He couldn’t afford to go straight to a doctor or hospital either -- too many questions, too much paperwork, too high profile. No, the safest place would be somewhere small, somewhere unknown. Somewhere he could take the thief, assess his situation, and decide how much care he needed. Somewhere no one would expect to look.

Jigen pulled out his phone. He kind of hated to use it this early. After all, it was a brand new burner, purchased yesterday right before he met with Zenigata. He hadn't planned to put it to use this quickly, but he figured this counted as an emergency and merited a search, even if it did put him on the radar again. Jigen sighed. He was looking for houses, cottages, or apartments for rent, anything within an hour or two’s drive. He came up with a few different options right about the moment Goemon walked back up to the truck. He hopped up into the cab on the passenger side and shook the rainwater out of his hair. Jigen scowled at him as the drops spattered his right side, but he supposed it didn't much matter at this point. They were both wet now, anyway. 

“Find anything?”

Goemon sighed. “Not much. Zenigata walked around to the back of the truck, got inside, then jumped back out. Then Lupin joined him. They waited by the side of the highway for a bit and then they must have hired a car, because about the only thing I can say for certain is that they did not leave here on foot.” 

“Makes sense.” Jigen tilted his phone toward Goemon so that the samurai could see the screen. 

Goemon raised an eyebrow. “You think Pops took Lupin on vacation?” 

Jigen nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” 

“So we just have to find out which house he took him to.” 

“Right. And I imagine there are not very many taxis that picked up two men on the side of the highway last night. We find the taxi, we find Zenigata and Lupin.” 

“Ok. So how do we do that?” 

“With this.” Jigen bounced the phone in his hand. “We start calling the taxi companies, see who picked up two kooks early this morning.” 

Goemon leaned back against the passenger side door, settling his shoulders into the corner between the door and the seat. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. 

“What are you doing? Napping?” Jigen demanded. 

Goemon cracked open an eye. “Admit it, you are better with that thing than I am.” Geomon gestured at the phone. Then he closed his eye again and settled his breathing. 

Jigen sighed. 

The samurai was right. Again.

He searched for nearby taxi companies and started dialing. 

Wan morning light through the window caught Zenigata dozing. He jerked upright, eyes wide open, shaking himself and muttering. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was. Rain beat the windows in a steady, quiet rhythm. He was stiff and he was sitting at a wooden table...in a cottage...in France! Last night rushed back to him. He shook himself.

He couldn’t sleep. Not yet. 

Zenigata blinked muzzily at his watch. 7:05 a.m.

The night had passed without incident. Zenigata sighed. Didn’t mean they were out of the woods yet, but at least Lupin finally got some rest. 

Zenigata had snitched the first aid kit from the transport truck and between that and the kit in the house (he’d made sure to find a fully furnished and stocked house) he’d determined a few things. One, Lupin had a fever of 105°. Two, he couldn’t breathe properly. And three, he was exhausted. The thief had fallen asleep as soon as his head touched a pillow. Zenigata barely got a couple of fever reducers and decongestants down his throat before Lupin passed out. Zenigata didn’t have much faith in either. They were generic, over-the-counter medicines, but he figured they were better than nothing until he could get a doctor to come out and look at Lupin. 

He’d already decided that taking him to a hospital was too conspicuous. Better if he could find a doctor who made house calls. That would give him time to invent a cover story, an alias, a reason why he was out here with Lupin this sick. Then, if the doctor wanted to transfer him to a hospital, there would be less questions asked, less people prodding, less chance of police getting involved. 

Cousins. That was the most plausible explanation Zenigata could come up with. They certainly didn’t have enough of an age gap to be father and son and they didn’t look alike enough for brothers. Zenigata could claim Lupin was adopted, but that sounded too far-fetched and he wasn’t going to try to make up a story where they were lovers. So, cousins it was. Cousins out on a tour of France and they’d gotten too cold and wet one afternoon out on a hike…

That sounded really stupid. 

Zenigata ran a hand over his face. He’d officially been awake for twenty-four hours now. Not that he hadn’t pulled all-nighters before, but they really got to him these days. It was tough to force your body to keep going. Adrenaline only got you so far. And now that he was settled comfortably above middle-age -- _damn, I really am getting old_ \-- he found that his body did a lot more pushing back when he tried to overtax it. 

Zenigata chuckled. Those were the days, weren’t they? The days when he was a fresh-faced rookie on the force and he’d pulled all-nighters like they were nothing. Zipping around, running circles around the old guys, trying to make himself as efficient and useful as possible. 

Now he was the old dog scoffing at new tricks. 

Zenigata forced himself to stand up, work the kinks out of his neck. He yawned. He should check on Lupin. 

He padded across the cottage’s main living space to one of the bedrooms and cracked the door open. Lupin lay sprawled across the bed, snoring, mouth half-open. Zenigata didn’t think he’d ever seen the thief slow down this long. Then again, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Lupin have to slow down this long before. A quick check of his temperature showed that his fever had dropped several degrees in the night. Zenigata felt a bit safer letting him sleep for a few more hours. 

He padded back to the kitchen and dropped into his chair at the table. Now, to find a doctor. He pulled out his phone and laid it on the table in front of him, head propped in one hand. 

His vision blurred as he tried to read his screen and he blinked. His eyes felt like they were covered in sandpaper. 

He ran a hand over his face. 

His eyes slipped closed. 

Maybe just a few…

...minutes. 

Jigen and Goemon stumbled in around eleven o’ clock in the morning looking like a couple of drowned rats. Or that’s what Zenigata might’ve thought, had he been awake to witness their entry. 

After casing the little cottage and deciding that Zenigata and Lupin were the only two occupants and that there weren’t any traps or trip wires, Jigen picked the lock on the front door and let himself and Goemon inside. Goemon still insisted on drawing Zantetsuken. But they met no resistance. 

It was obvious when they walked in. 

Jigen laughed. “Goemon, you can put the sword away. Pops is dead asleep,” he said, but he kept his voice low, just in case. 

Behind him, Goemon shut the door and made a sound of disapproval. But Jigen heard the hiss of metal on leather as Goemon sheathed his sword. He had it hanging from his belt today, not concealed in the black tube. It made for an interesting contrast with his new get-up. Jigen still wore the suit that Zenigata loaned him for his Interpol disguise, albeit quite a bit more rumpled, and without the tie. They’d thrown the bloody tie away in the hotel, left it in the trash where the housekeeper would find it and gasp and speculate and chalk it up to one of those weird things one sometimes found in hotel trash cans. 

Goemon was suddenly at his elbow, as silent as a wraith. “Do you think we should wake him?” he asked softly. 

Jigen shook his head and snuck over to the bedroom door. It was cracked and he pushed it the rest of the way open to find Lupin passed out across the bed, snoring. While he was still pale, still disheveled, there was something about him that looked marginally better than last night on the camera. Jigen looked back at Geomon and pulled his magnum from his belt. Then he settled on the couch, midway between the kitchen and bedroom and put the gun on his lap. 

“No,” he said. “Let’s see how long it takes ol’ Pops to notice. We’ll keep watch.” 

“You mean we are not busting Lupin out of here and leaving Pops with an empty house?” 

Jigen grimaced. “Much as I’d like to, I don’t want to wake Lupin yet. Besides, if Pops has done any doctoring, we probably need to know what it is.” 

Goemon nodded. “Then we wait.” He took up a position against the wall by the door. He leaned back against the wall and let one hand drop casually to the hilt of his sword. He looked relaxed, but Jigen knew he could strike from that position in seconds. 

Let Ellian come at them now. If he even could. 

Jigen and Goemon hadn’t left the truck by the side of the road for him to find. Instead, they’d called a tow truck and had it towed, putting the bill in Ellian’s name. And then, using some of Jigen’s false authority as an ICPO officer, they’d figured out which taxi company picked Lupin and Zenigata up, and even got the same driver to pick them up and take them out to the cottage. Jigen smiled as he flashed his fake badge at the terrified driver. 

Squashed in the backseat together, Goemon had hinted that maybe Jigen was overdoing it, but Jigen had just smiled at him too. Goemon rolled his eyes, but Jigen’s methods had been effective. 

Now all there was to do was wait. 

And watch. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Goemon sat cross-legged with his back to the door, Zantetsuken sheathed on his lap, and watched the cottage sleep. Despite his assertions otherwise, Jigen slowly drifted to sleep after about an hour. He had his head down against his chest, hat covering his face, hands slack in his lap, gun lying on the couch beside him. Goemon chuckled softly to himself. Being the youngest member of the party had its advantages sometimes. Like still being able to run on just a few hours of sleep. Though, to be fair, he didn’t give Jigen much chance to sleep in this morning. 

Goemon shifted against the door, alert for any change in the breathing of his sleeping companions, or any sound from outside to indicate that they’d been found. Although they’d done a thorough job of hiding their tracks, it wasn’t impossible for Ellian to trace them here, merely improbable. Goemon had come to find that when Lupin was involved, the impossible happened more often than not. Like the fact that they were all sitting in a cottage in France with Zenigata and he wasn’t trying to arrest them. Or the fact that Zenigata broke Lupin out of prison. This entire mission was strange. Goemon sighed. 

He’d never once in his younger days imagined that he’d be running across the world with a master thief and a cranky gunman. But it was like he told Jigen -- Lupin had gravitational pull. He was irresistible and charming and there was no other place in the universe that Goemon would put himself other than at the enigmatic thief’s side. No matter what they went through, he couldn’t imagine another place he’d want to be. 

He laughed softly to himself. 

What a mess they were in now. 

What a bigger mess it was going to be when Zenigata woke up. 

Goemon ran a hand through his hair and settled more comfortably to wait. 

Zenigata opened his eyes to the sharp orange glow of late afternoon sunlight. No, that was impossible. He’d just closed his eyes a few minutes ago, this morning. Zenigata took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face, sitting up at the kitchen table. He tried unsuccessfully to stretch the kinks out of his back, but sleeping for several hours in a wooden chair hadn’t been kind to him. He nudged his phone until the screen lit up with the time. 3pm. 

Zenigata was suddenly wide awake. He’d been asleep for nearly eight hours! 

He looked around the cottage and nearly jumped at the sight of Goemon sitting on the floor, back to the front door, Zantetsuken sheathed across his lap. 

The samurai gave him a grin and held a finger up to his lips, a gesture that reminded Zenigata too much of Jigen. Jigen! Zenigata whirled around to find Jigen passed out on the couch in the living room area behind him. He looked back over at Goemon. 

Goemon shrugged. He stood up and walked over to the table. “Enjoy your nap, Pops?” 

Zenigata sighed. “When did you get here?” 

“About four hours ago.” Goemon slid another chair out from the kitchen table and sat down. “You really should keep better watch, you know.” He frowned. “If we were Ellian, Lupin would be back in jail by now.” 

Zenigata felt the tips of his ears heat up and knew his face would be turning red. He grumbled under his breath, something petulant like, “Well, you’re not Ellian, and Lupin’s not in jail.” 

Goemon tilted his head with that patient scowl that was so familiar, but he didn’t comment. Zenigata wasn’t entirely sure he’d understood all of his mumbled words. 

“So, what now?” Zenigata asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do we duke it out over Lupin? Are you here to take him back?” 

“If we were going to do that, we would have already done it. No, Jigen wanted to wait.” 

Zenigata’s eyebrows went up. “Jigen?” 

Goemon nodded. 

Zenigata looked puzzled. 

“Have you done anything for him?” Goemon asked, nodding his head in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Not enough,” Zenigata said. “I got him to take some generic stuff, anti-congestants, cough syrup, that sort of thing. But I’m not sure it helped. Has he woken up?” 

Goemon shook his head, his mouth a thin line. 

Zenigata sighed and then stiffened as he felt a presence behind him. A moment later, Jigen slid up like a shadow, dark and tall, and fell into the third chair at the table. His magnum was casually in one hand and he laid it on the table like an ultimatum. 

“Nice to see you, Pops,” he said. That hat was down over his eyes, like usual, but Zenigata didn’t trust it. “Glad you weren’t trying to skip out on me or anything.” Jigen’s voice was smooth, casual, but there was an underlying note of danger in it. 

Zenigata felt the tension in the room rise. Goemon was suddenly stiff and alert on the other side of the table. 

“I didn’t leave you behind on purpose,” Zenigata said. And it was the truth. He wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t. 

Jigen grunted. 

“Glad to see you in one piece,” Zenigata continued. 

Jigen scowled. “How’s Lupin?” he asked. 

“Fine. Well, relatively speaking. I got some medicine in him last night and got him to sleep.” 

Jigen didn’t say anything else, he just stood up, slid his magnum back into his waistband, and walked into the bedroom. Zenigata and Goemon met each other’s gaze over the table and stood at the same time. Goemon padded across the room, Zenigata right behind him, walking carefully, like they were approaching a wild animal who would startle at loud noises. 

And that was when Jigen yelled. “Lupin!” 

Goemon didn’t give it a second. He jumped through the door, hand on his sword, as if a sword could do anything to help here. Zenigata followed on the samurai’s heels, feeling like a lead weight had settled in his stomach. 

As soon as he walked into the room Jigen flew at him and suddenly Goemon wasn’t in front of him and there was nothing between him and a very angry Jigen. “What have you done?” Jigen shouted. 

Zenigata barely had the chance to open his mouth before Jigen’s fist connected with his jaw. Zenigata saw a bright flash and pain blossomed in his head and jaw. He staggered back, legs suddenly useless. He hit empty air behind him and barely managed to catch himself on the doorframe, clumsily sliding to the floor as his legs gave out. He tried to speak, but his jaw didn’t seem to work. All he got out was an incomprehensible murmur. 

“Jigen!” that was Goemon, shouting. 

There was some sort of snarled reply from Jigen. 

Zenigata tipped his head back, closing his eyes so his head would stop spinning. 

What...the...hell? 

Goemon knew it was coming. And he should’ve stopped it, but his instincts kicked in and got him out of the way and Zenigata took Jigen’s punch full in the face. He went down like a sack of potatoes, landing on the floor with his eyes slightly out of focus. 

And then Jigen was back at Lupin’s bedside, shaking the thief and shouting in his face. Lupin didn’t respond. He flopped limply in Jigen’s grip, eyes closed and face pale. Goemon stood for a moment, stunned. Lupin...he wasn’t...was he? He couldn’t be. Lupin was immortal. Lupin was...Lupin. Goemon felt like the world suddenly collapsed around his shoulders and he wasn’t at all sure how to begin picking it back up. 

“Lupin!” Jigen keened. It was not a shout, not a yell, it was a plea, a cry, a desperate prayer. 

Goemon suddenly remembered how to use his mouth again. “Jigen!” 

Jigen ignored him.

“Lupin, you fool, wake up!” Jigen shook Lupin by the lapels, jerking the thief’s head back and forth so hard Goemon feared his neck would snap. 

“Lupin!” Jigen slapped him across the face. 

“Jigen, stop!” Goemon shouted. He took a step forward and the world solidified again and the room was real and Lupin and Jigen and Zenigata were real and he could do something about this, damn it.

Jigen continued to shake Lupin, heedless, like somehow he could shake life back into him, something suspiciously like tears lurking at the corners of his eyes.

“Stop!” Goemon snapped into action and grabbed Jigen, wrestling him off Lupin’s prone figure. “Stop it, you idiot, or he really will be dead!” 

Jigen fought Goemon’s grip like a man possessed and it was all Goemon could do to keep Jigen’s arms locked by his sides, clinging to the taller gunman like a monkey on his back. In the end, Jigen quieted, but Goemon didn’t let go. He could feel Jigen’s breath, the labored rise and fall of his chest, the heavy drub of Jigen’s heart. 

They stood like that for a moment, frozen. And in that moment, Goemon could see Lupin’s chest rise and fall. He nearly lost his hold on Jigen. Lupin was alive. The thief was alive.

“Why won’t he wake up?” Jigen whispered. 

Goemon swallowed. “I don’t know, but his best chance is to get him to a hospital, alright?” he said quietly. “There is nothing we can do. Not like this." 

Behind them, Zenigata staggered upright, leaning against the wall, wiping a hand across his bloodied lip. A dark bruise was already forming across his jaw where Jigen socked him. 

Jigen quieted a bit more, deflating, like a balloon losing air. Goemon let go and Jigen dropped into the kitchen chair sitting beside Lupin’s bed. Goemon kept a restraining hand on Jigen’s shoulder. 

“Fine,” Jigen growled. “Then we take him to a hospital.” 

“No,” Goemon said softly. “Zenigata will take him.” 

“WHAT?” Jigen jumped up again, fist coming for Goemon’s face, but Goemon was ready for him and deflected the punch with his left arm. Jigen howled as his fingers came into contact with hard plaster instead of flesh and bone. Goemon winced, but it turned into a smirk as he grabbed Jigen’s arm and used the momentum of Jigen’s punch to twist him around and put him in a chokehold, right leg wrapped around Jigen’s, left arm around Jigen’s throat, right hand wrenching Jigen’s shoulder back, stretching Jigen across his chest. 

“You bloody little…” Jigen growled, but Goemon just held on tighter. Jigen made some gurgling noises, the hard plaster of Goemon’s cast pressed against his throat. 

Zenigata watched the whole thing wide-eyed, standing against the wall as if to get as far away from the impromptu wrestling match as possible. 

“Do you yield, Jigen?” Goemon panted. 

Jigen struggled a few more times, a token resistance, but he couldn’t break the hold. After all, it was one of his own invention. One he’d put Lupin in more than once. Goemon was pretty sure Jigen didn’t even see it coming. It wasn’t exactly a samurai technique. And Goemon had never used the hold before, although he’d seen Jigen use it several times. Turns out, you could learn a lot just by watching. 

Like how to drive. 

Or how to incapacitate your friend. 

Jigen finally stilled, struggling against Goemon’s grip, trying to get enough air for a breath. Goemon relaxed his hold just enough to allow him to breathe. 

“You done?” he asked. 

Jigen coughed, but he didn’t resist, so Goemon took that as a yes. 

“Now, if you will kindly stop trying to kill us all and listen to me, I’ll explain myself.” 

Jigen didn’t answer, so Goemon continued. 

“Zenigata will take Lupin to the hospital, because Zenigata is the least recognizable of all of us. We know that Charpentier is trailing us. We know that he can pin a museum heist on the two of us.” 

“Zenigata’s just as guilty!” Jigen protested, voice hoarse. 

“Yes,” Goemon agreed. “But not of the heist. And from what you have told me, Zenigata has an alibi for Lupin’s abduction.”

There was a non-committal noise from Jigen and a nod from Zenigata. 

“Zenigata is also very well known for being a police officer and nothing else,” Goemon said. 

Jigen grunted. “What are you getting at?” 

“No one will expect him to be in disguise.” 

Jigen was quiet for a long moment. 

“Besides, we’re better as bait anyway.” 

“Bait?” Jigen panted. 

“Yes. Bait,” Goemon repeated. 

There was a long pause. Jigen twisted in Goemon’s grip. “Let me go, samurai,” he muttered. “I’m getting a cramp in my leg.” 

“You promise to sit down and be a good boy?” Goemon asked. 

Jigen grunted something that might’ve been in the affirmative. 

Goemon sighed, but he relaxed his grip and let Jigen stand on his own two feet again. Jigen flopped down in the chair, rubbing his right leg. 

“You know, you have a nasty habit of being full of surprises, Goemon,” he said. 

Goemon just shrugged. “It is good to keep your enemies guessing,” he said. 

“And here I thought we were friends.” 

“We are.” 

Jigen sighed. 

Zenigata carefully peeled himself away from the wall. “Is it safe now?” he asked. 

Jigen shot him a glare. 

Goemon tensed. 

“Relax, all of you,” Jigen huffed. “The insatiable urge to kill something is gone.” 

Goemon cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, but strangely Jigen didn’t protest. Instead, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, pulling his hat down further over his eyes as a trail of smoke escaped his lips. 

Goemon sat down on the edge of Lupin’s bed and gestured for Zenigata to join him. He did. Farthest from Jigen. Goemon sighed.

“Alright, we don’t have much time,” he said. “So this is --” 

He was interrupted by pounding on the front door. 

“Zenigata! Open up! I know you’re in there. The house is surrounded. There’s no escape.” 

Jigen, Goemon and Zenigata froze, holding a collective breath.

Jigen's mouth moved, forming soundless words.

_Ellian Charpentier._

Then his head snapped up, eyes flashing. He met Goemon's steely gaze and the two locked eyes and nodded.

"Zenigata! This is your only warning!"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Goemon asked.

Jigen nodded.

They rose as one. 

"Pops, your coat. Quick," Jigen said. 

Goemon turned toward the bed and began undoing the buttons on the front of Lupin's prison jumpsuit. More pounding came from the front door. 

“In the name of the police, open up, damn you! Or we’re coming in. You hear me Zenigata! You have until the count of three!” 


End file.
